


Treading the Line Between Dark and Light

by ReclessAbandon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo/Kylo Ren x OC, Bounty Hunter, Bounty Hunter x Sith Lord, Bounty Hunter-Sith Lord tandem, F/M, Force-Sensitive, Grey Jedi, Jamis Asterion (OC), Jedi, Sith, Sith Lord - Freeform, Star Wars - Freeform, post-TFA, pre-TLJ
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-02-23 00:38:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 42,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13178643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReclessAbandon/pseuds/ReclessAbandon
Summary: Kylo Ren meets the most unusual type of person in the galaxy: a bounty hunter who uses dual lightsabers of two contrasting colors—red and blue.But the resonance of the Force with her deems more worth to the ill-tempered, young Sith.In his stead, she learns about the hot-headed, brooding Sith's conflict between his past, present, and his own true identity. Meanwhile, Kylo deciphers the cunning hunter’s past and true identity. Upon discovering who she really is, he offers to teach her.Until he unearths a distant memory from a faint bond of the past that has come to haunt him.





	1. Intruder

The Star Destroyer Finalizer hovers in the dark vacuum of space while the medic droids patch up Kylo Ren’s wound on his face. General Hux overlooks everyone else’s work in the bridge as they do their routinely work operating the Star Destroyer.

The red-headed general looks at the wide window, seeing nothing but stars, planets, and moons in orbit. For once, everything seems peaceful.

“Status report?”

“Fleet has adequate fuel, nothing foreign detected in our radars, and the jump to lightspeed is ready at your command, sir.” said the operator checking the screen on their panel.

“Good.”

Meanwhile, outside the Star Destroyer, is a lone freighter ship. The vehicle’s thrusters burned and pushed it forward, heading straight for the colossal ship. Like a bullet, it got through the force field that divides the hangar and the pressure of outer space, it effortlessly landed on the hangar grounds—which caught the attention of a thousand Stormtroopers, droids, and commanders.

“An unidentified ship has landed in hangar 5A!” One of the commanders shouted.

This caused an alert amongst the crew present in the hangar. The Stormtroopers—by impulse—pointed their blasters at the now-still ship, awaiting orders to fire at the pilot at its exit. The crew persons eagerly looked over the rails and windows of their stations, anticipating any move from the pilot.

Everybody in the hangar heard a hollow whirring sound—the ship’s cannon turrets—and they became cautious, whoever this pilot was, they were definitely racking a million nerves. The turrets are pointed at the Stormtroopers but are not firing. Could the pilot be taunting them or is the pilot expecting something?

No, the pilot was not expecting anything. The turrets have already begun firing at a cluster of Stormtroopers and it did so for a few rounds. The troopers opened fire at the freighter and it was the perfect opportunity for the pilot to bust out of the ship and take them by surprise.

“Hold your fire!” one of the commanders shouted and the Stormtroopers ceased.

The pipes blew off steam as the ramp of the freighter lowers. The smoke clouded the image of the pilot standing at the opening. The silken yet menacing hums of a lightsaber rang across the hangar—igniting tension, anxiety, and fear amongst the Stormtroopers and the commanders—and the bright, glowing blue shaft of light illuminated the fog. The pilot nonchalantly steps out of the ship.

“Jedi?! I thought they were all extinct!” the commander exclaimed, “What are you waiting for? Fire!”

The pilot was a woman. As she stood in front of the awe-stricken army, another shaft of light emerged from the other end of the saber—to their surprise, instead of blue, the color that emerged was red, such a color belongs to the likes of Kylo Ren.

“Attack!” again, the commander exclaimed.

From the way she moved, she was full of fluidity and grace. Her face is concealed with a full-head helm with a vertical visor, she deflected every blast of the Stormtroopers with the lightsaber. At one point, one Stormtrooper has grazed the side of her helmet, causing her to lose balance and so the troopers took advantage of her faltering composure, but she deflected their shots weakly and regained her footing in the process. She pulled out a DH-17 blaster pistol to heighten her odds against the Stormtroopers. She threw a thermal detonator and destroyed a handful of the AT-ST units for good measure. Eventually, she cut them all down and used the Force to bring down the rails where a number of commanders were standing on. She was all over the place.

When the blasts have become continuous, the girl twisted the middle of her lightsaber’s hilt and it split into two. The twin lightsabers hummed as she spun them to deflect the projectiles and with great precision, the blasts ricocheted and aimlessly hit back the troopers.

“Get General Hux and tell him that—” the commander in the hangar’s bridge said but is immediately cut off by the red-headed general himself.

“What in blazes is happening?!”

“I-It’s…”

“What? It’s what?!”

“There’s been an intrusion and it’s a Jedi.” The commander whimpered.

Hux’s eyebrows furrowed with disbelief, “That’s impossible. All the Jedi are dead!”

Another scream from the hangar called the general’s attention, he strode towards the window and finds the Jedi that his men are referring to—a helmed Jedi girl wielding twin lightsabers. Without hesitation, he made his way to Kylo in the medical bay. Hux punched the control panel, the door whirred open, and he stepped in without so much as waiting on Kylo to let him in.

“There’s been a breach,” Hux said as calmly as he could but the shakiness in his voice is evident.

Kylo gently brushed the medical droid away but he does not look at the general, he simply said in contrast to the former’s tone, “I know. I’ve felt it.”

“Aren’t you going to do something? She is cutting down the troopers’ numbers with two lightsabers!” the general said through clenched teeth.

Without a word, Kylo’s ears pricked up and he stood from where he sat, he donned his helmet, left the medical bay deliberately ignoring and leaving Hux. The young Sith marched through the corridor strewn with panic and alert, his eyes and focus set on the way to the hangar, he flips a portion of his cape away as his hand searches for the lightsaber strapped to his belt.

As he got closer to the hangar, he detached the lightsaber from his belt and readied it in his hand, the thumb resting on the trigger.

_Ben…?_

A distant echo—a female voice—rung through the hall but there’s nobody there. The voice stopped him in his tracks, he searched for the source but he cannot find where it is coming from, he ignored it and continued his way to the hangar.

_Ben, where are you?_

“Get out of my head!” Kylo snarled, shaking the voice off of his mind as he clutched at his temples.

Momentarily, the voice faded and stopped bothering him. He looked around the hallway again, standing still to search for the voice but it is gone; for a moment, something in his mind emerged—a blurry memory.

Finally, he arrived in the hangar and saw the lightsaber-wielding intruder who just cut down another Stormtrooper. The tension shifted dramatically the moment Kylo arrived—the Stormtroopers ceased just by his presence and the commanders’ collective panic subsided.

“Who are you?” Kylo asked.

“ _You_ are the master of this ship?” She sarcastically emphasizes on her first word and it sounded more like she was questioning it rather than stating the obvious.

Annoyed, he triggered his lightsaber, it buzzed and hissed.

“You are an easy kill.” He hissed.

“Am I?”

Strange. Kylo sensed something so strong and so familiar from this woman.

Her shoulders heaved as she catches her breath but she does not retract her lightsaber.

“The Jedi are extinct—without the others, you are powerless. I destroyed the Jedi Order,” Kylo robustly snarled.

He received no reaction; however, she responded with a gentle bow of the head and made an almost-silent scoff. Slowly, she raises her free hand in mid-air—which made the Stormtroopers cautiously lift their guns at her—and she reached for the rim of the helm. Whilst removing it, the helm set free a weave of long, brown locks—and finally revealed her face.

A pair of soft brown eyes meet Kylo’s piercing ones.

“Who are you?” Kylo asked again.

And again—no response from her directly regarding her identity.

“Someone who does not hide in mask during a fight,”

Of course, as prideful as he is, he did not want to be brought down and insulted by some mere pilot girl who is in hold of two sabers. Clenching his fist in annoyance, he took his lightsaber and the sparking blade angrily whizzed out of the black hilt followed by the crossguards on both sides. Accepting her challenge, he stepped forward to her, positions himself in his fighting stance and she chuckled.

“This’ll be quick,” She mutters.

“You’ll regret underestimating me!” Kylo snarled at her.

“Let’s see about that, shall we?”

Both sabers collided at one another, the girl—although ragged in her fighting style—manages to evade from Ren’s attacks as compensation for her combat, she even literally saved her neck as he thrusted his lightsaber right next to her throat which gave her enough time to notice and examine the look of his lightsaber.

 _That’s an unusual lightsaber, it’s ragged and edgy._ She thought to herself. _Just like him._

She mentally assessed that he was strong—she admits that to herself very openly—and that the impact of his strikes were heavy and wisest move to do was to evade those heavy attacks instead of countering them as they would risk her balance and grip, but she defied her own advice when Kylo was coming at her and she had less than a  few seconds to react; thanks to her reflexes she manages to reattach her lightsabers together into one again and block the attack, fortunately it was not as heavy as his usual attacks yet it brought a great deal to her balance which caused her to lean back as he takes the upper hand.

“You’ve a lot to learn. Let me teach you,” Kylo softly tells her, trying to lure her in.

The fact that she’s in much of wrestle with him, being offered to be mentored by him firsthand, she felt something very unusual—yes, even though she is Force-sensitive—and she couldn’t further explain it at least to herself so she didn’t trust this and kicked him away from her, before he could even picked himself up on his feet again, she used the Force as she quickly stretched out her arm with her palm open but Kylo was quick enough to do the same as a counter. It was now a battle of strength with the Force.

“You are quite strong,” commented Kylo.

“Tch…” she grunts, pressuring herself to resist his own hold using the Force.

She lost the fight as she overworked herself. She jumped back and readied herself for another melee combat. The flurry of lightsaber parries and thrusts glowed in the center of the hangar.

His charging attack was immediately blocked by the Jedi girl—whose power was so strong that Kylo felt intimidated—she was nimble as she was smaller and leaner. Kylo Ren’s attacks remained brutish and heavy but the Jedi’s attacks were swift and difficult to evade. A battle between might against dexterity. Every single person in the hangar watched with such excitement and eagerness, it was their first time to meet someone who lasted in a fight against Kylo Ren.

“You’re quick, I’ll give you that,” Kylo commented, “But your moves are reckless, directionless, and lacking the sufficient power to bring me down. You are getting exhausted, intruder,”

She denied those remarks, she readied herself in a stance, and advanced to lunge at him. This was his chance—he took advantage of her recklessness. He deflected her attack and followed a swing at her—she attempted to counter it with a shot from her blaster but he has snatched it before she could even pull the trigger. She was slowly growing exhausted, she is just denying it to herself.

Her fighting spirit impressed Kylo, although that was not enough to save her from his next move.

As she was about to pull out a detonator from her belt, he quickly put his arm in front of him and froze her right on the spot. A soft wave of his hand and he had put her to sleep, before her body could even touch the ground, Kylo caught her with the Force and easily scooped her up.

“Sir, what do we do with the ship?”

“Put it on lockdown,”

“Right away, sir,” obediently, the hangar operator headed to the freighter and did what he was told.

Hux was about to meet Kylo halfway, just as he was about to say something, Kylo had beat him to it, “I’ll be taking those.”

The Stormtroopers picked up the girl’s lightsabers and blaster pistol as Kylo Ren marched with the unconscious pilot in his arms. He brought her to a cell—he gently laid her down on the flat, uncomfortable bed, he took a good look at her as he brushed aside the hair that’s covering her face, and he examined her—trying to grasp something but cannot.

The Stormtrooper handed over the lightsabers and blaster to Kylo for confiscation, he took it without any sort of hesitation.

He did not pay much mind to her blaster and her consumables, he was more fixated with her lightsabers.

He studied the design: the Kyber crystal is suspended between two electromagnetic ends that made it look like it was levitating, it was exposed but protected by glass panels. Sleek and elegant—in its own rustic way—were the suitable words to describe the overall appearance. The feel of the hilt was a perfect fit for the hand as it has an indention specifically where it should be held. Kylo noticed the joint that connects and detaches both lightsabers at the wielder’s whim.

Kylo triggered both lightsabers—the red one first and then the blue—he studied and got a feel of both for himself. He searched for something in these weapons, something that would answer a question running in his mind that he cannot put into words.

But her very presence intrigues him.

She shifted a bit, causing Kylo to turn his attention to her. He thought of the attempt to enter her mind to see what she sees and has seen, know what she knows and have always known, and feel what she is feeling and has felt in all her years.

_Sadness..._

_And then a quick shift to hate… anger… and even rage._

He was surprised. He wasn’t expecting that at all.

What is it that brought this girl’s emotions to such a dramatic transition?

Another thing that took Kylo aback was the blurriness of her memories, because only feelings manifested and not solid memories or images, and then the sharp pierce from Kylo’s influence woke her up.

She jolted and sat up, startled by Kylo’s presence before her. Before she could even scooch further away, she realized that she was unarmed, laid only on a single-file bed and having nowhere else to run with the dreaded master of the Knights of Ren standing right in front of her path.

This girl, a lightsaber-wielding pilot, and Kylo—a bad-tempered and ill-mannered young man—are together in the same room; a tension is present between the two, silent but intense, and it sent strange chills to both of them.

“Don’t be afraid,” Kylo, speaking through his mask, purred.

His voice almost made the room rumble and then abruptly stop. There was something about him that makes her feel almost too certain… too confident of a conclusion in the back of her mind.

She does not respond, she kept her gaze on him, her heart is pounding.

“You attempted to penetrate my mind,” she said, catching her breath, “Of course I’d be afraid.”

Kylo took a step back away from her, she examines the room around her.

“You have quite the interesting mind,” he commented, “It’s been a while since I last met somebody like you.”

“When was the last time you met the likes of me?”

“I don’t know,” Kylo’s voice trailed off. “I never counted.”

“Have you killed them all?”

The question was uncalled for. From the way she spoke, it is as if she was making a snarky statement but it sounded like she meant it; immediately, his eyes widened, his ears pricked, and his chin adjusted—tilting it upwards. He noticed that she’s rolled her eyes to his left hand. He shows the lightsabers blatantly in front of her.

“Are these yours?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course, they’re mine,”

“I think you know _exactly_ what I meant by that question,”

She does not answer him, not in the way he expected her to even if she knows what he wants to hear from her. Her expression changed, she tried her best to retain her straight face but failed. The need to get those lightsabers back in her hands is painted all over her face and Kylo used her need to get them back against her.

“Regardless whether they really _are_ yours or not… You seem to have quite the taste in design,” he commented in a taunting manner as he examines it in front of her, “Elegant yet rustic, but still sleek. Judging by the looks, the craftsmanship is impressive. Did you make them by your own hands or was it the true owner?”

Kylo Ren knows that Jedi and Sith alike construct their own lightsabers by themselves using the Force. Given the materials for the hilt, its mechanisms, and the Kyber crystal in hand, one must concentrate on how they want the hilt to end up looking. For young apprentices, it takes a great deal of focus—hence, making it a challenge worth its while—the same goes for Master Jedi and Sith Lords as well.

In that very moment, he felt something—familiar yet distant, something that he cannot remember _and_ can remember at the same time. Is it possible?

She does not answer his question and yet he continued to critique her sabers, “It’s been a while since I last saw a Jedi—oddly enough, you _don’t_ feel like one. But this sure _is_ my first time to see someone so strong with the Force… wield _two_ lightsabers! Not only that, they have different colors—unlike the usual choice to have the same color on both sabers.”

She kept her glance on the sabers, she thought to herself how could she have let her guard down that led to have them taken away from her and used as a taunt?

“I am no Jedi,” she finally spoke.

“While that may be true, you are still hiding something from me,” Kylo growled.

“Am I? You could be mistaken, you know,” she sheepishly said.

“You’re cunning, I’ll give you that, but you are not as clever as you thought you are,” he added.

“I’ll take it,” she replied, still straight-faced.

“You can snark on me all you want,” his baritone gave off an intimidating vibe, he stepped forward to show his authority, “But you’re not getting out of this Star Destroyer so easily.”

He marched out of the cell, ordered two troopers to guard the door, and retired to his own chambers. He has taken her lightsabers along with him as well, he handed over her blaster and pouch of bombs to the Stormtroopers. Left alone in the sterile, hollow shell of a room, the young pilot made use of the little room she has; she sat down on the floor, leaned against the side of the bed, relaxed her breathing, and focused at the dimly-lit ceiling _._


	2. Identities

Kylo dropped the lightsabers on the table in his chamber. He sat down in an attempt to relax; in front of him sits the melted helmet of his grandfather whom he worships and talks to—the closest to family he ever has in the Star Destroyer.

He does not talk to it—like he usually does—and then he reflected on the feeling that he had when he was in the room with the intruder. He recalled the sensation that he had felt in that room, he presumed that it stemmed from the girl whose connection with the Force is so strong that it reminds him of Rey’s, but this one’s stronger.

In the back of his mind, the way she moved flashed before his eyes. He saw how reckless she can be at some point in the fight. Kylo judged that her abilities are still raw, untamed, and she lacked proper training—it’s as if she only taught herself a few things, which seemed to be the case. Although her style and strategy were shoddy—compared to Kylo’s caliber—she exhibited impressive swings and lunges yet she is just begging to be trained, he could see it in her.

Recalling it again, the feeling was familiar to him; but he cannot exactly point out where in his memories it first manifested to him. He attempted to meditate on it, only for that one voice to reach him out again in the silence—present yet invisible—immediately, he became distracted by the voice.

_Ben… where are you?_

It rung again, it may be happening inside his head but in his perspective it feels surreal; the voice’s emotion could draw anybody, in this case, it’s Kylo. It allured him easily, it seemed to tell him that it wants him to find where it’s coming, it is as if he knows whose voice it is.

_I can’t find you…_

Whenever he hears it, he finds himself heavily breathing and his chest beating hard, his eyes wander too much looking for that person, almost as if it was out there to reach out to him but cannot. There is this sense of wanting, loss, and sadness in that voice.

Kylo tried to calm himself down in order to stop the voice before he could actually meditate. In his mind, all he could remember was the image of his father, Han Solo, reaching out to touch him in his congealed expression before falling into the white abyss; then it starts from there backwards, he recalls the feeling of entering Rey’s mind—which was somehow similar to what he did to the pilot but failed—and then way back to the time when all he could see was rubble: the night that he destroyed the remnants of the Jedi Temple of his uncle and former mentor, Luke Skywalker.

“What is this? It’s something… warm,” Kylo muttered to himself.

He realized—and denied shortly after—that he has never forgotten. He made himself not forget—serving as a reminder that it was the necessary means that would _complete_ his training.

Finally, the voice vanished and he was able to meditate. The silence was his ally. It helped him relax. The soft billowing of the air helped him reach a certain degree of tranquility despite the kind of surroundings he puts himself in.

In the cell block, it was dead silent. However, metal walls do not block out _all_ the noise. In her cell, the pilot remains in the same position as she was for a few minutes; she fiddles with the straps of her coat out of boredom and then her eyes wandered to the corner of the room—turns out Kylo didn’t take everything. Her damaged mask was left in the corner of her cell.

“Oh no,” she murmured then crawled on all fours towards the corner where her mask is, she picked it up and checked the graze, the blaster’s impact has left a gaping hole on the bottom corner. “Damn it…”

She deducted that the Stormtroopers—known to lack empathy for anybody at all—must have thrown it into her cell like it was something disposable when she was unconscious. She tested if the mask would still work, she fitted it but found the exposed portion of her left jaw and cheek from where the damage is.

She sighed and muttered to herself, “Nice, I guess there’s no point in using this,”

The girl set down the damaged helmet on her bed and smacked her lips. She stood up and walked to the door, knocked and hoped that the Stormtroopers on guard would listen to her.

“Hey, can I have a drink? I’m thirsty,”

They do not verbally respond, though their attention was caught when she knocked on the door and started talking and asking for a drink. They returned to their position only for her to ask again.

“I said, I’m parched. Don’t pretend that you can’t hear me, I know he stationed you there,” she said, then another knock follows but she does not speak further, indicating she has given up.

She sat down with a sigh of defeat, bowing her head and resting her elbows on her knees. Fighting the thirst, she slowed down her breathing and tried to ignore it. Eventually, the door whirred open. She acknowledged it with a scoff under her nose but she does not move a muscle.

“I guess you’re here to torture me?” she said with the snark she has left.

“If you call a questioning torture then I suppose so,” it was Kylo who entered her cell.

“That depends on your methods,” she finally tilted up her head to face him, a towering black figure standing by the door of her little cell.

He remained standing there and noticed the mask sitting on her bed. He already has taken a good look on her face—fair skin protected by her hunter’s garbs, soulful brown eyes, and a familiar vexed expression on her face.

“Who are you, really?”

“I’m a bounty hunter that landed into your Star Destroyer’s hangar,” she sarcastically replied, knowing full well that that answer was not what Kylo was expecting.

“A bounty hunter,” Kylo echoed.

Jamis gives a small smirk and slight raise of the eyebrow, “I guess I look the part and _do_ the part, sure,”

“Who are you?” Kylo asked again, this time in a firm and stern tone of speaking.

She looked at him for a brief moment, she smirked and looked away, “I’m pretty sure you know already—I’m sure you’ve known from the moment you entered my mind with your tricks,”

 _Jamis, that’s her name. A familiar one too._ He thought. He needn’t to ask her again only for her to say it out loud.

“Do you know who I am?”

For Jamis, it sounded like a conceited question. Conceited but necessary. She felt like it was some sort of test. She kept her gaze at him and tried to fish whatever feeling she can get from him. He was attempting to intimidate her with the intention to know how far do her limits go; after all, this is not the first time he’s invoked fear on his captives—this isn’t the first time he has attempted to enter their minds either.

“No, but I do know what they call you,” she looks away as to recall the name they call him, “Ren, was it? ‘Master Ren’ if I’m not mistaken,”

“Kylo Ren,” he reiterates.

“Pleasure,” she sarcastically returns the pleasantries.

Her sarcasm almost reminds him of his late father’s smugness—he wasn’t expecting any flashback, but her attitude was the trigger to remind him. Truly, there is something about this girl.

Kylo takes a deep breath, his fists noticeably clenched as the sound of the leather squeaked as it tightened, and takes a few steps forward to the center of the cell to send Jamis the signal that it is becoming serious—from her slouched posture, her back straightened as he got too close, and then she waited for whatever questions he may have up his sleeve.

“Let me cut to the chase. What kind of bounty hunter uses dual lightsabers—let alone, a lightsaber—and can use the Force?”

“The unusual kind,”

“Where did you get them—the lightsabers?”

“It was a prize, from one of my contracts in Felucia,”

 _She is lying!_ He angrily thought.

“I am not playing games with you, bounty hunter, tell me what I want to hear from you!” he snarled.

“Then make this easier for me, Master Ren,” her voice seemed to have raised in volume and her tone quickly changed from the laidback tone to a serious, firm one. “Start asking the real questions.”

 _She’s not easily shaken,_ Kylo thought, _her resilience is impressive._

“You didn’t steal these lightsabers from one of your hunting targets, did you?”

At this rate, Jamis knows it’s pointless to hiss and snarl at Kylo with her snark, he will not leave until she answers his questions.

“No, they really _are_ mine—I made them,” she firmly answered.

“You’re not really a bounty hunter, are you?”

“I _am_ a bounty hunter,” Jamis said with clenched teeth, snarling.

He believed her. He can tell that she is a bounty hunter—it just so happened that her methods are unusual from the standard bounty hunter category. She is a rare bounty hunter indeed, and he realized that she could be of use to him—if she only warmed up to him.

“You know, for a bounty hunter—you have a shoddy way of fighting,” he bluntly remarked.

“What?”

“In the hangar, your style resembles that of a Padawan,” Kylo taunted. “I could teach you to fight better.”

“I’ve heard stories of you Sith Lords—kill the former master, take his place then find an apprentice, only to be killed by that apprentice or kill him if he does not serve your benefit anymore,”

“And where did a little bounty hunter like you hear those kinds of stories?”

She did not answer. She looked away from him, avoiding the question.

“Right, let’s try this again, Jamis,” he whispered casually.

He gently hovered his hand near her temple, he is attempting to reach into her mind again. This time, the images, the memories, and the thoughts in her mind are as vivid as he sees her in front of him. He sees her as a girl—a young girl wielding a lightsaber, learning how to fight, and learning how to connect with the Force. He sees her in her worst fears realized—fire, rubble, and death surrounding a defenseless, young Jamis who is not strong enough to prevent the catastrophe and can only flee the scene. He sees her trying to harden herself in the harsh and unfair world of bounty hunters—a world wherein it is all about being ahead and on top, it is all about making a name for yourself in order to earn some respect, a world of isolation and greed, a place where you can trust no one but yourself. He has seen those things up to the moment that their lightsabers collided—the moment that her greatest desire, the thing that she is lacking, has manifested and he has seen it.

“Pain, sadness… hate, there it is… a power that withholds so much potential,” Kylo muttered.

“Get out of my head!” Jamis said through clenched teeth.

To counter it, she dared herself to enter _his_ mind in the process. Alas, there she caught a glimpse of this treacherous, young Sith. A boy. A scared, insecure, young boy torn between two worlds that he cannot decide which to enter. A little boy undecided on which path to take that would guarantee his future.

Kylo himself was taken aback at what she did, so much so that he has released himself from the Force penetration of her mind.

“Just returning the favor,” vexed, Jamis hissed.

“Huh, impressive,” Kylo hissed back, “But I really think you need a mentor to refine your fighting style,”

“What makes you think I can trust you?”

“I suppose your thoughts did the exposition for me,”

“I can do fine by myself,”

“Really?” he said in a manner of confirming her claim. “You are a rogue—as you always have been—you’ve lost everything that’s the closest to having your training completed, you yourself are incomplete. Your want to learn more about the Jedi way seems to contradict you being fine by yourself.”

He got her there. She was speechless. Jamis has gotten her guard—both physically and mentally—down by Kylo Ren. He may brutish and full of tantrums, but he is clever and that is one of the things that make him so lethal.

“But I can teach you _much_ better things than the Jedi could… far better,” he pressed.

Kylo walked to the door and opened it, but before he would step outside, he turned back to her, “Think about it, Jamis, if you would accept my offer to teach you, you’ll be able to learn more than just the Jedi way or the rogue training you have undergone, even more than the bounty hunters have taught you.”

They exchanged glances with one another before Kylo left the cell.

“You can’t even help yourself, Kylo, why bother helping me?” she muttered, but only to herself.

She sat down on the floor, leaned against the wall, and meditated again. Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, Kylo was talking to the Stormtroopers.

“Relocate her to a chamber by tomorrow,” he commanded them, then comes Hux walking towards Kylo.

“Are you softening up to a girl again? Are you going to let your guard down again just because some woman bested you?”

“I am not softening up,” Kylo reassured as he strode out of the cell block and Hux followed.

“Oh, really? You don’t call entitling the girl to a chamber just because she’s uncomfortable softening up?”

“Be careful with your words, General, you may use them on your subordinates—but not to me,”

“You may be as well be careful with _her_ , Ren,” Hux warned, not receiving any feedback from Kylo as he has exited the cell block.


	3. Coming to Terms

Finding herself in the solace of her cell, Jamis realized that Kylo is out to seek Luke Skywalker to kill him—as he failed to do so before becoming what he is now—and he cannot do so without _the_ map. She pondered over what map in particular then dismissed the idea, what consumed her mind next is the astounding amount of power that Kylo has over her—she felt that it was a matter of who is much stronger than the other—clearly she knows and admits to herself that her knowledge and her training has full of holes; the thought of reconsidering Kylo’s offer to train her is almost too tempting and _too good_ to refuse.

The only company she has in her room is her broken mask—one of the things that gave her the identity as a bounty hunter; some wore masks, others did not, it was a matter of preference and branding oneself, how people would recognize or know you. She removed her cowl as she felt like the room itself is suffocating enough. For the rest of the day, the only things that ran around her mind were Kylo’s mind—when she countered his mind penetration—and his offer, two things that seem to have been eating her the whole day.

The cell block was quiet.

To sate her boredom, she sat down on the floor and tried repairing the mask—even if it meant removing some parts of it and totally alter it in some way—while she does not have brute strength, she used the Force to cleanly and straightly cut off the part where the damage was, until her creative juices hit her and remove a portion of the other, undamaged side of the mask for symmetry, leaving only a portion over the nose as a guard.

“I guess… I could go with this,” she muttered to herself, slightly satisfied with the makeover.

As she was examining the new look of her helmet, the door hums and slams open, quickly her head turns to the direction of the cell door and enter General Hux—clad in his all-black ensemble of a uniform, he fixed a sneer at her. Startled, she stood up frozen by Armitage’s sharp gaze and he does not say a word for a brief moment.

“Who are you?” Jamis broke the silence between them.

“Someone you shouldn’t take lightly,” he hissed.

“A leader, I figured,”

Jamis examined his whole figure. A stone-cold sneer, steely eyes, the aura of an ambitious leader. This is the second tall and dark figure that has loomed over her small stature. She noticed the insignia and the armband he bears in his uniform and took to mind his reply to her question.

 _He’s a general, all right. Better not mess with him._ Jamis mentally sniggers.

“My lucky guess is that you’re a general,” she coyly said. “I assume it’s your turn to torment me?”

“Unfortunately, Ren did not issue that order to me,”

He gestured at the open cell door and two Stormtroopers enter, one of them was holding a set of restraints and the other walked up to her to bring her to the one holding the handcuffs. They’ve tied her up and Hux exits the cell first, then the Stormtroopers—with Jamis—followed.

“So, where are you taking me exactly?”

“Quiet, bounty hunter, or you won’t see the end of it,”

In the meantime, she quietens down and lets the Stormtroopers lead her to where Hux is escorting her to. Eventually, they get out of the cell block and Jamis saw how everything works within the walls of the Star Destroyer. Small droids zoom past her feet, even bumping into her, Stormtroopers on patrol march across the corridors, and officials in uniform bark orders at each other. When it has been quite some time, Jamis decided that it would be a good idea to engage in small talk with the general.

“What’s a top brass general like you doing such a mundane chore?”

“What?”

“You heard me, if you had this many men in your ship, why of all people would Ren make you escort a lowly prisoner like me out of the cell block to somewhere else?”

It is true. Escorting this girl felt like a neophyte’s chore and it had bruised his ego the moment Kylo commanded him to do it. The only way to compensate is to appear intimidating to Jamis so that her fear of him would at least lick the wounds of his damaged pride—and so he made the day of her relocation his opportunity to give her that impression.

“He thought that I was the only one capable of fighting you without a second thought should you ever get the idea of fighting your way to escape,” answered Hux.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll take me down easily,” she remarked, half-serious.

She looked at the Stormtroopers on both of her sides and then to Hux—whose back is turned to her—and realized that she does not stand a chance, she admits to herself that she is too reliant to her weapons, she also thought that she could get away with just a blaster but her prized lightsabers would be her top priority.

Eventually, they got to the chambers wing. Hux rolled his eyes as he crunches the code on the keypad and the red bar turned green, then the general turned around to face the girl.

Puzzled, Jamis asked, “So, mind telling me where the hell you have taken me?”

Hux inhaled sharply and punched a button, the door retracted into its frame and he stepped aside to let the Stormtroopers bring Jamis in to the room to have a look.

They pushed her in, she disregarded it immediately when she got a good look of her new room—indeed it was much more spacious than the original cell she has been staying in for almost four days ever since she lost the fight to Kylo in that hangar that led her to being incarcerated in that claustrophobic cell. It had a decent bed—with real pillows and sheets—and a holotable where she can pick up incoming transmissions within the Star Destroyer.

“Ren’s orders were to relocate you into a different room,” Hux said and adds, “Although, I personally thought you’d last three days to cover a week or more in that cell.”

“But why? I… I don’t understand,” muttered Jamis, for once, she dropped the snarky tone.

Hux gulped before answering, “I don’t either, but I wish I did,”

“Am I still going to be guarded by your men?”

Hux simply shook his head with that frown still intact.

“Could I at least have my restraints removed so I could use the things in this room?” she said as she gestured her wrists by putting it up in front of her and Hux.

Armitage took the key from the Stormtrooper and he personally unlocked them, a tinge of hesitation was etched in his face but he concealed it with the action of doing the initiative of taking the key to unlock Jamis’s handcuffs. She felt the slight harshness of his touch, possibly showing an extreme dislike and exasperation to the fact that she is being allowed to stay in the ship and not be jettisoned in a pod or rotting away in a cell. Another thing that irritates him is that he cannot presume to compromise Kylo’s orders since that would be insubordination and he would have to face whatever consequence the young lord has in mind for him.

“Comfortable yet?” Hux hissed.

“Actually, yes, thanks for asking.” Jamis chided, for fairness.

Hux proceeded to march out of the room but before he could actually go, Jamis stopped him in his tracks.

“Wait,” she said.

He turned around and waited for her to complete her sentence.

“Where is my ship?”

“I’m afraid I’m not supposed to tell you,” he simply said.

Then he marched out of the room, one of the Stormtroopers threw the mask towards Jamis’s feet before following the general. The door slams shut as soon as the three of them were nowhere near the door, leaving Jamis in the room; looking around, she felt like she could breathe easier as she was finally subjected to a larger space, then she approached the bed and reached out to touch the blankets as she had the bizarre assumption that the soft sheets were holographic to torment her some more.

“Okay, at least the bed is real,” she chuckled to herself.

Then she noticed something lying on the plain nightstand by the bedside. At first glance, one would think it was a thermal detonator, but given that Jamis has a history of using those types of bombs, she can tell the difference between a thermal detonator, an ion stun grenade, and a spherical training remote. She reached for the ball-like drone with the Force and examined it—there were signs of overuse such as weathering, scorch marks, and busted lights for nighttime trainings.

“It doesn’t feel like someone else has been here before me,” she muttered, looked around the room again and then back to the spherical drone, “But… I still feel _something_.”

She rotated the ball and searched for the switch, anticipating that it would still work. She gave it a good shake, then she finds the switch in a matter of minutes. The drone stutters and crackles, but it did not flutter away like it should be and so Jamis decided to give her Force powers a try.

She cradled the remote in her hands, she mentally prepared herself as she was about to throw it in a take-off manner then she counted to three in her head before throwing it.

Away, she threw it and then immediately she threw her hands in front of her with her palms open and directed at the drone… only for the sphere to fall straight to the floor.

“Nice…” she sighed.

She got off her bed and picked it up, she took a look if her throw had damaged it but to her luck, it was not strong enough to ruin the drone. The lights were still flickering and waited patiently for it to work on its own; suspecting that there was a defect present, she removed one of its plate and found one of the circuits disconnected, she fixed it and replace the plate, then flitters away from her hands, she watched it float away and smirked with satisfaction.

“Seen better times, eh?”

The sight of it floating around her room gave her a sort of lighthearted feeling, child-like even to make her chuckle, then she gave it a try to use the Force to direct it to any direction she wishes; she prepared herself on the bed, took a deep breath, positioned her hands in such a way as if she is holding a ball, and then she focused her eyes on the drone—it moves on its own without a controller, according to its looped programming, and it could fire at will as well.

“Okay, let’s give this another shot,” she whispered.

Keeping herself focused, she does not look away from the drone in the hopes that she might actually can control it. In her mind, she commanded the drone to hover upwards to its corner right—to her disappointment, it did not. Again, she mentally commanded the drone to hover, this time to the left side, but it does obey her whim.

While it may start becoming frustrating, she suppressed all her growing irritation for the flying remote and she spent her time teaching herself to use her powers on a ball.

Across the gleaming yet dull corridor of the Star Destroyer, Armitage marches to Kylo’s chambers to report to him that Jamis has been relocated as ordered. To him, it still seemed like an irrelevant move to have her in a different room. He kept thinking that Kylo was indeed softening up to her but he bit his tongue at the idea.

Before he could even knock on the door, it whirred open—by Kylo using the Force to open it—he let himself in, finding Kylo, mask removed and sitting down in front of his grandfather’s skull; and then wordlessly, he was expecting a status report from the general.

“The girl has been relocated to a chamber in the eastern wing, just as you ordered,”

“Good,” said Kylo simply.

“May I ask what do you plan from here on out?”

“Come to terms with her, she may be of use to us,”

“In what way can she be of use to us? We have all the resources we need!” exclaimed Armitage.

“Are you doubting me, general?” Kylo turns around to face him straight in the eye.

That question itself is a trap. Hux knew that he had taken one step over the line where Kylo Ren’s limits lie, one more false answer and he will be done for with the young lord’s wrath. It would be wise to keep one’s mouth shut when Kylo begins asking questions like these, and so Hux bit his tongue and constructed another answer in his mind.

“No, I do not.”

“Good, then you might as well be dismissed from my chambers now,”

Without a word, Hux turned away and left. Kylo turned around to face Darth Vader’s helmet and this time, after days of not talking to it, he finally did.

“Grandfather, I feel it… but whenever I come closer, I can’t seem to find it,” he muttered. “I try repressing it but it’s no use, I keep hearing the voice, calling out to me… what could it mean?”

He gripped onto his helmet, gathering his strength before wearing it, he removed his cowl before leaving the room. Quick glances were stolen from the officers as Kylo passed by them, some did a brief nod to him as a sign of greeting and he only returned glances to them and continued walking. He finally reaches the chamber and he can feel faint vibrations emitting from the other side of Jamis’s room.

 _She’s using it again, she does not even know how to handle them._ He thought.

Shyly, his hand searched for the button that opens the door from the outside—the one that Hux punched after deactivating its locked state—and gently pressed it. As he stepped in, he found Jamis lifting the training remote—it appeared to be floating, only inches away from her legs—while calmly sitting on her bed, the trick did not last though as soon as Jamis felt Kylo’s presence, her focus shifted which caused the ball to drop.

“Comfortable?” Kylo asked casually.

Jamis looked around, “Better than a cramped metal cell,”

He walked up to her closer, stopping at a fair distance from her in her bed, and as he did—her eyes never moved away from him and his mask.

“Bounty hunters and their clients arrange and settle each other’s terms, do they not?”

“On some cases. Why?”

“I have a proposition for you,”

The word piqued the bounty hunter’s interest, she raised her eyebrow and shifted her position as she waited for him to continue speaking.

“You’re speaking my language, go on,” she insisted.

Before speaking, he lifted his hands towards his helmet; a slight nudge upwards triggered the inner mechanism of the helmet to hiss, and then the front plate and portions of the silver border moved—as if it was unwinding itself to give the wearer space to remove it seamlessly.

Finally, before her, was the face of the young apprentice—Kylo Ren—battered, scarred, and ashamed. She tried calming her racing heart—she was expecting all of this, the sight of his real face felt surreal and she cannot shake the feeling that she couldn’t explain—she attempted to conceal her true emotions and pretended that it was nothing. However, she tried her best not to stare at the grey bandage on his right cheek.

“In some time—possibly in the near future—we will be requiring your services as bounty hunter,” he paused and Jamis noticed the catch within the deal.

“If?”

“If you allow me to train you with everything I know—from wielding a lightsaber and using the Force—I’ll make sure you will be the most formidable bounty hunter to run around and pillage in this galaxy,”

She shrugged and scoffed, bobbed her head slightly to show that the deal is keeping her interests in check, “Fair enough,”

“So,” He puts his hand in front of her, palm open and ready to seal the bargain. “Do we have a deal?”

Jamis’s eyes quickly glanced at Kylo’s gloved hand then to his eyes. Uncannily, for an apprentice of the Dark side, he has gentle-looking eyes past those bruises and she could sense his general sincerity in his words. She sees the inferior boy that she saw the first day she was incarcerated in the cell today, standing in front of her with a hand awaiting to seal the deal.

“Deal,” she said almost quietly.

She was almost hesitant to stand up from her bed and touch him, but she mustered up the gut and took hold of his hand.

“Good, find me in my chambers once you’re ready to train.”

Immediately, he turned away from her and walked out of her room whilst she remained standing there until he was nowhere in sight anymore. The moment he stepped out of the chamber, he could’ve sworn he felt something, he deduced that it had something to do with their hands touching for the first time but he shrugged it off as he thought it was a far-fetched idea—but it was not too far-fetched as he remembered that Jamis was Force-sensitive and it was only likely that they would experience something when they connect.

He flexed his fingers before walking until a piercing sound came into his mind again which caused him to wince.

_Ben…?_

_Ben…!_

_Ben, let’s go…_

That last line was new, he looked both ways—left and right—and saw that the scene was still the usual, officers roaming and giving orders while Stormtroopers do their patrol routine. He was looking for the direction it was coming from.

But the voice had dissolved from a faint whisper and then to nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just did some little grammatical corrections here and there. I may have added a few words there, doesn't change the plot, though it kinda boosts the story some more.


	4. Getting Used To

Kylo decided to take a stroll to the hangar where he had taken Jamis’s ship in custody. It was parked to the side as to not cause an obstruction for outgoing transports and starships. The entryway of the ship had been left open, he dared himself to enter as he was hesitant to step in at first. When he got inside, to his right was immediately the lounge—internally, he hypothesized that every freighter in the galaxy _always_ have a dejarik table, a game that he recalled describing as “stiff” and “boring” as a child.

There was something about the ship that made him remember a fragment of his very being. The _Millennium Falcon._ The ship that his late father deems near and dear to him, despite the consistent nickname of “piece of junk” by many of Han’s peers, which Kylo—or Ben—himself had secretly adopted and Leia jokingly and fondly calls.

While Jamis’s freighter was not exactly the same model as the _Falcon_ , its layout was similar which threw off Kylo in unexpectedly recalling a piece of his life—one that he tries so hard to throw away and forget to please Snoke—with shaky fingers, he glides the tips on the wall until he got into the lounge, he continued gliding his fingertips on the rim of the couch and then to the dejarik table.

_Ben?_

Again, the voice is there for him to hear. Strangely, it did not have the intruding feeling to him, it is not like he welcome the entity into his mind but rather the voice itself was calm in nature. And this time, it was _familiar_.

Han’s voice.

The voice haunted and startled Kylo so much it caused him to a full 180-degree turn to look for an invisible voice. He could point that voice anywhere as he never forgot his own father… even after what happened.

_Alright, Ben, now relax your grips on those and lean back. Makes the driving easier._

The voice of a middle-aged Han Solo teaching his little son the proper—and comfortable—posture when piloting the _Falcon_ rings in Kylo’s mind, although Jamis’s _Stellar Wind_ cockpit is not the same layout as the _Falcon_ , memories still materialize before Kylo’s eyes, and he could see his father and himself as a boy in the front seats of the cockpit.

 _I… I’m stretching my arms too much when I lean, I won’t be able to hold the grips well._ Complained young Ben, whose lean arms are not long enough yet for him to lean back in the seat and hold the steering bars at the same time without much effort.

 _When you’re a bit older and bigger, maybe I could convince your uncle and steal you for a bit from him._ The memory of Han jokes and tussles his son’s hair, father and son share a giggle in the volume of soft whispers.

From that moment, Kylo jolted as if he was warped back into the reality that the ship is as empty as a cave. He was fighting the fact against himself that he did not like the ship—simply because of that fleeting memory. He did not prefer moments like those, especially when they’re sudden. But then, he wondered the individual scenarios if he would have the ship torn down to the last bolt—thus completely eradicating Jamis’s way of escape—or just keep it tied down to the wall of the Star Destroyer; he kept thinking of the latter and then reminded himself of the offer that he had tried using as bait to Jamis—the bounty hunter wanting more out of the skill and the full prowess of being a fighter.

He looked around, searching for any signs with no reason at all—except for the sudden anxiety drawn from the memory—and realized that he is alone. He decided to look around again, searching every part of the ship—without the intent of taking anything—he skipped the tight areas like the engine hatch, power core, and turret access, and the seemingly empty spots like the cargo hold and engineering.

“No bounties lately, I see.” Commented Kylo to himself, addressing Jamis’s current state in her occupation.

The young man wandered every other part of the freighter, trying to get a good look of it, and then interestingly, he managed to find the captain’s quarters. He let himself in, watching him enter was a woven doll sitting on a mounted shelf in the bedroom, and it had the likeness of a human donning a dark brown jacket, black pants, and a brown boots. It portrayed a common hunter. On its left was another doll in the same likeness but it was evidently a female doll—with a rectangular piece of cloth for its hair, its clothes were fashioned to make the doll look like a housewife wearing sand-brown robes, a thin strip of black fabric for its belt, and then short leather boots. One would think that it is preposterously laughable for such a fierce bounty hunter to harbor a child’s plaything.

Beside the doll rested a milky-white crystal pendant whose shape was jagged and indefinite, its edges glimmered in prismatic colors of red, blue, and yellow when angled, and while it was not exactly smooth it was surprisingly soft and the edges to do not easily scratch the skin—perhaps a small yet invaluable treasure to the bounty hunter.

Kylo noticed them but touched neither the dolls nor the pendant, he simply stared at it—trying to make meaning out of it, understanding the reason as to why they are there, and asking questions to himself stemming from those three little things—and then left the freighter, returning to his chambers.

“What is this I’m sensing?” he muttered under his breath as he was exiting the ship.

For two days, Jamis did not leave her room but she was provided with something to eat and drink every day, but she remained inside with no interest of interaction. She was too preoccupied with the deal that she had struck with the young master, and like a broken record she recalled their entire conversation while it was still fresh in her head; she would space out and recall every single thing in their exchange and then she will elaborate—to herself—that a part of the deal goes like this and that.

Episodes like those helped her focus and clarify things out for herself when needed. But this was the most unusual deal that she has ever signed up for in her history of hunting.

In the comfort of her bed, she visualized how he would train her in the ways he has learned for who-knows-when, she imagined how she would fare in hunting again after he has trained her, what will she learn from him, and just how formidable she would be when the time comes.

“I need to take a walk,” she muttered to herself and sprung out of her bed.

Jamis pushed the button and then the door whirred open, she headed to the right and began walking. At first, she did not like to idea of walking around—despite her new privilege of being able to roam the halls freely but being unable to escape—because of the eyes of the officers and the stare of Stormtroopers whose helmets lack the visual of the eyes from the outside, but she ignored it as she tried to retrace her steps from her first cell and then to the hangar.

“Okay, just don’t… just don’t look ‘em in the eye, Jamis,” she muttered under her breath as she continued walking. “They won’t shoot you, anyway.”

She came across a corridor that she wasn’t familiar with until one of the walls offered a view of the hangar—but not the exact one where she landed in—and so she thought she was going in the right direction. She walked up to the large window and looked, she found countless maintenance droids rectifying ships and walkers but no freighter to be found.

 _This must be the other side of the hangar._ She thought.

At the end of the hallway was a fork, then Jamis pulled away from the window and followed her instincts as to which way should she go. She went left. Along that part, the tunnel-like hall seemed and felt longer than the other ones she has passed through then in the far end, she saw someone walking to her direction—it was Armitage.

She ignored him as she walked but she kept her eyes in front, not that he has ever exhibited anything of his behavior towards her that would imprint himself as a threat to her.

As their distance closed, the tension grew—Jamis did her best in paying no mind to him until they were already side-to-side with each other and Hux immediately took hold of her arm, stopping her on the spot.

“Don’t overstay your welcome.” He said huskily as his grip loosened and adjusted the crease on her sleeve.

“Oh, I’ll make sure I won’t,” she does a side-eyed glance at him, “General.”

She shook off his fingers still clinging on to her sleeve and continued walking.

Walking in the corridor felt like forever, but Jamis followed her instincts and eventually ended up in the correct wing of the hangar where they have kept her ship. Eagerly, she ran up to her freighter with its entrance ramp open and a foreign cable—five times as thick as her arm—attached to one of the legs of its landing gear. She traced it with her hand, gave it a slight shake and followed where the other end of the cord was—it was attached to one of the steel walls acting as an anchor to keep it restrained in case she tries to escape in it.

“Of course, he’d tie my ship up,” she muttered.

Jamis examined the exterior of her ship, checking if there were more modifications and locks that could be holding down her freighter, specifically a YT-1450 unit which she fondly named the _Stellar Wind_ ; barely three years old, the hull of the ship bore scorch marks probably accumulated from the episodes of other bounty hunters pursuing her, nevertheless, she has maintained its shape and function—since it is the closest she has to calling a home.

She entered the freighter and checked for any signs of ransacking: open compartments, scattered supplies, seats in a disarray, and circuit hatches left ajar. To her relief, the engine did not appear to be tampered and all her supplies and consumables seem to be in place. She rushed to her cabin and see if Kylo ordered to have her collection of weapons to be confiscated as well.

She released a sigh of relief as she opened her strongbox with a sniper rifle, twin blaster pistols, an ion cannon, a spare one-handed blaster, and five pouches of different kinds of grenades—from stun to dioxis and to stasis. She rearranged them in a different order and locked the box afterwards. Then, her eyes wandered to the mounted shelf of her cabin where the pair of dolls and the crystal pendant sat. Jamis walked up to it and readjusted the female doll so that it sits closer to the hunter, she took the pendant and wore it around her neck—in a few seconds, she felt relaxed and at peace but somehow lonely.

She went to different areas to check if any of her things were missing. None so far after scanning the vehicle’s interior.

“You old girl,” she lovingly muttered after settling down on a seat in the lounge.

Looking around again, she sensed that something was off.

“Ren…” she suspected.

Then there were voices heard from the outside and immediately she ran to the entrance to find Kylo himself speaking to one of the technicians present in the hangar. He dismissed the technicians and they faced each other again, but the young lord boldly set foot on the entrance ramp—somehow taunting Jamis in her _own_ property—and got closer and closer to her.

“I believe I owe you an explanation regarding your ship,” Kylo said casually.

“You think?” said Jamis in a sarcastic tone with her arms folded together whilst leaning against the frame of the entryway.

“The restraining cable is self-explanatory,” he added.

“You don’t say,” again, she responded with sarcasm.

But she became impatient with the young man and decided to cut the chase, “You’ve been in this ship, haven’t you?”

Kylo did nothing but shoot her a look that says everything and she was smart enough to read his expression. Then he looked over her shoulder and eyed the interior of the ship, with enough audacity he stepped into the bounty hunter’s ship and got _another_ good look at it, only this time Jamis is there behind his back to watch over him.

Her eyes followed wherever he went, he went to the left side—heading to the lounge—then she followed just a few steps away; she found him standing in the middle of the area, he found a trinket that drew his interest and attention: a device that ought to be a compass.

He picked it up, examined it with his arm suspended in mid-air for Jamis to see her own compass in Kylo’s hands, and angled it as he looked at it.

“Not yet used to the world around you, I see,” Kylo remarked, tauntingly, as he always did.

“And I suppose _you_ have?”

Kylo turned around to face her, he put down the compass back on the table, and strode towards her in a slow yet menacing gait.

“I have… in one way or another,” he huskily purred.

A glint caught his eye—the crystal pendant hanging around Jamis’s neck and resting on her bosom—his gloved fingers made her slightly jolt as he fiddled with the necklace. His eyes showed recognition towards the prismatic gem but he did not speak. He let go of the charm. Next, his eyes trailed to the bounty hunter’s eyes: a pair of soft, puzzled, hazel-brown irises staring back at him whose gaze is so distant and a tinge of kindness shined out of it.

Nervously, he gulped and brushed past her, leaving the premises of the freighter as he said, “Your ship will remain tied up until I say so!”

When silence remained in the freighter, Jamis stood still and relived that moment briefly, as if trying to figure out in her head what everything that transpired meant. Indeed, he asserted his authority over the _Stellar Wind_ ’s state in the hangar but within the metal walls of the starship, an air of vulnerability lingered. Even if Kylo denied it—to protect his ego—his being vulnerability showed the moment their eyes met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was posted with a very long window of time because school started in my college and I suffered a 4-day-old migraine within the first week of the new (and my last) semester. Awesome, right? But at least I did the effort of trying to finish this chapter finally and not leave you guys hanging. So I hope you enjoy my labor of love. MTFBWY.


	5. Other End of the Bargain

As Jamis finally had the freighter again to herself—in some way—she took the time to reflect. The freighter’s silence helped in making her think clearly without any sort of disturbances. Slumped against the booth-type couch of the lounge, she stared at the metal ceiling of her ship and recalled Kylo’s words regarding his offer to train her, then with the apparent foresight, she thought of the underlying loopholes and fallacies of his bargain—ones that would occur naturally once her guard is off.

She closed her eyes for a few minutes, still thinking and wondering how she is going to respond to his offer. While he stays in his chambers patiently—or impatiently—waiting for her to make a move and say something in his face, whether it is the one thing that he _wants_ to hear or the thing that he _needs_ to hear from her.

“All right, Jamis, how are you going to handle this?”

It felt like she spent half the day inside the threshold of her ship, until she wordlessly deliberated with herself. She evaluated the advantages and the disadvantages, the possible—yet unpredictable—events that could happen in the middle of their deal, or worse: her worst fears realized with her fear of failure and being rid of either at Kylo or Hux’s disposal.

Eventually, she came to conclusion with her decision. She ran up to her quarters and shed out her clothes that she wore for God-knows-when. She sported an all-black ensemble of a tank top, a black jacket, pants, boots, and gloves. She wetted her hair with a half-filled canister from a few days prior her arrival and incarceration in the _Finalizer_ and combed her long brown locks. Before leaving, she opened her strongbox filled with her array of weapons and picked up a long staff that she had constructed out of scavenged or traded materials—the kind of quality sold from corrupt and shady outposts and warehouses like in the sleepy small-time town proper of Tatooine.

She slung the staff across her back and stepped out of the ship, she took one last look behind as she walked forward—away from the _Stellar Wind_ —and the cable holding it down did not disappear.

 _Oh, that’s right, until he says so._ Jamis thought, followed by a vexed eye roll. She marched back in the confinements of the Star Destroyer and kept her sights on Kylo’s location—a vastly spacious area where Kylo himself sits patiently with eyes piercing straight at the door, expecting her.

Unconsciously, Jamis does not realize that the farther she gets into his whereabouts, the lesser people come and go—not as crowded as any wing or annex of the ship—but she does not mind it. She was so  
focused on the idea of sparring Kylo that she did not become aware of her surroundings.

At the end of the hall was a gray steel door, unguarded but sealed—the look of it is inviting in itself—and it was literally the end of the corridor; there were no control panels, no surveillance devices, no roving guards—nothing. Jamis cannot sense any other presence on both sides of the door—none except for her own and Kylo’s in the other side.

A slight tap in the Force caught Kylo but he remained steadfast and still in his posture. Yes, he senses her on the other side. Just a little closer now.

From Jamis’s side, she could feel Kylo luring her in then she felt the presence of her lightsabers—sitting on both of his sides. She stepped closer towards the door and realized that she had to use  
the Force to open it, however, uncertainty befell her as she was standing right in front of it. Her self-doubt rung loud for Kylo to hear, he felt it but he was sure that she can do it.

“That’s where you’re wrong, that’s where you’re weak,” Kylo thought out loud. “Your self-doubt tramples on your own belief of your own strength.”

Jamis puts down the staff, so she could invest her energy in attempting to open the door; she took a series of deep breaths and let go of all the tension clinging in her system. When she finally felt relaxed, she gestured her hands in mid-air, palms open like how she tore down one of the rails to lessen the number of her enemies and pushing one of the Stormtroopers out of her sight in the process when she was welcomed by a barrage of blasters, and cleared her mind.

Indeed, tearing down a rail and platform from a hangar would mean that her strength and sensitivity with the Force was of high calibre, but she cannot control it yet—rather, she has not fully accepted it or embraced it within her, that is why she failed. She was half-surprised that the door was heavier than the platform, she assumed that a door this conspicuous would mean that it was something more of a challenge than the platform she tore down from the hangar.

“Come on,” Kylo mumbled, anticipating a sight to behold. “Let that power within you flow!”

The door creaked, opened, and a ray of burst into the wide space where Kylo sat. Standing before him, in the center of the doorway, was Jamis with her hands raised in mid-air and keeping her focus on the door as it rose upward, shying into a slit in its frame; then she found him there sitting in the center of the room, clad in black as well, with her sabers’ hilts twinkling with the little light exposed to it as each rests on Kylo’s side, and his own lightsaber laid down in front of him.

When the door had risen enough for her height to fit, she stepped in hesitantly, thinking that if she let go the door would fall on her but it did not as she consistently focused on it and so she had gotten through the door—staff in hand—and faced a calm, tranquil Kylo Ren.

Kylo scoffed at the sight of her with another weapon, “Foolish hunter, bringing another weapon in this midst,” Jamis did not speak, clearly she knew that he was in a state of taunting her—possibly to get her emotions going—and she let him continue.

“You perfectly know that I had them here,” he turns his head on her lightsaber on his right, the blue one, as he speaks, she begins to walk towards him slowly. “You want them back, I know.”

The Jamis before him was new—this was not the bounty hunter that acted like a hissy, rebellious teenager during their interactions together, this was a bounty hunter who wanted the other end of a bargain rightfully granted without diversions.

“Go on,” he insisted, gesturing on the lightsabers. “Take them. You see my saber? It would take me two seconds tops to reach for it and strike you.”

Jamis still had the staff in her hand and then she eyed on the twin lightsabers and then his lightsaber, in her head, she was planning how she was going to take control of the situation. Is this a  
test? She thought.

 _He’s definitely toying with me._ Rung in her head.

She locked eyes with Kylo, slowly she stretched out her right arm to the side with the staff in hand, and then she dropped it—letting it clatter on the floor as it hollowly echoed—but she did not keep her eyes away from him; with that out of the way, she then focused her mind on the lightsabers, pondering on how she will snatch them away from his reach.

“What are you waiting for? Here they are,” he gestured both of his hands at them. “They’re yours to take, after all, you _own_ them.”

As the tension builds, Jamis remained standing as Kylo remained sitting down—head tilted up to face her and look at her in the eyes—she was only waiting for the right timing of him being caught off-guard so that she may have the upper hand, but the young, lacking fighter did not know any better.

Quick and sudden like a flash of violent lightning, Jamis—with all her might using the Force though unlearned—managed to take _only_ her red one. The split second of igniting it allowed Kylo to snatch his own from the floor and switch it on and block her attack. Frustration manifested out of her fighting form, immediately decreasing her odds of winning over this spar, and Kylo saw through this. Before he could think of countering and gaining the upper hand, she had already broke free from their clash and recomposed herself.

What a sight to behold the sparring episode was! Two red lightsabers clashed against one another. Happening in the confinements of the room, no other witnesses other than an omniscient being who is just as powerful as Kylo and Jamis combined—perhaps maybe more than their capacity—but is absent in their midst.

Kylo made a hard thrust of the saber towards her—as if he was about to stab her—but she evaded it by a sweeping dodge to his nine o’ clock, bent down with one leg stretching outward to maintain her balance, and then she stood up ready for another one.

As sweat trickled down her neck, she readjusted her grip by spinning her weapon—a taunt so commonly used by Jedi and Sith alike—and calculated her next attack as Kylo paced to the side, anticipating her next move. Her hands greased the hilt with her sweat but she tightened her grip as best as she can but doubted the outcome of her attack.

“That’s what makes you so weak,” taunted Kylo. “You do not have the confidence that you can even beat me.”

“Your arrogance won’t even save you anyway,” Jamis retorted. “Deep inside, you know you’re broken—you just don’t admit it.”

This provoked Kylo, he wondered where did she rooted that feeling out of him—he did not realize that Jamis had felt a part of him, an unknown part of him, back in the freighter that same day, thus she used it against him and to her advantage in the fight; and then Kylo comes running towards her, closing the gap between them with his lightsaber at the ready—she now finally has the chance to block him, and all it needed was a little nudge of the broken ego.

Kylo growled with great annoyance at the insult spat at him, although he denies it, he knows full well that it is true: he knows that he had been broken—by a particular scavenger originating from nowhere but can handle a lightsaber with great profiency—and he did not want to be broken again this time by some bounty hunter who can wield a lightsaber and a variety of other different weapons. Jamis saw the expression in his eyes—it made him look both pitiful and terrifying, with his bruised eye and scar, the fire burning in his eyes that only signified nothing but rage, and the way he moved with that lightsaber in hand. Everything about him was so tragic and saddening.

It made her think of her own disposition at some point in her past: alone, beaten up—either physically or mentally or both—and bottling up all her emotions until she is ready to explode any time soon. She was nothing when she came to the planet she considered her home planet: Corellia. The environment surrounding her was harsh and one must learn to speak the language of scoundrels, thieves, hunters, gamblers, and big-time gangsters in order to fit in and avoid getting beaten up into a bloody pulp in a cantina. Later, she realized that she feels like she has come a long way after everything that has happened to her… and everything that she has lost. She feared that she might end up like him—if things do not go the way they are planned—afraid that she might be irritable, undignified, too egoistic and violent: it is another form of her that she may not recognize her old self, should the time come.

Violently, Kylo’s lightsaber clashed on Jamis’s raised saber, sparks flew and both struggled against each other’s strength. Jamis could feel all of Kylo’s weight burdening on her, her stance cannot stay still on her spot, and so her footing made little steps backward; subtly, she was planning to get closer to her blue saber that remained undisturbed and untouched ever since she and Kylo clashed lightsabers. She collected all her might to push Kylo away so that she can continue having the upper hand of the fight. Surely, she can fight her way out of this lumbering height of a man. She pulled away again and connected her next attack—only to be deflected by Kylo—the spar goes on and the victor is not yet apparent.

The way their attacks connect and the flow of their individual movements were impressive—to each their own—but Jamis needed work on how she will gather her strength to actually make a considerable counterattack.

“Flimsy,” Kylo commented, “You attack like an eight-year-old Padawan!”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion!” Jamis roared as she connected another attack on Kylo, out of her frustration, she managed to Force-push him to a reasonable distance to regain her stance and footing.

This time, it was Kylo who was backing up with every attack—he was putting himself on the defensive, as he noticed that Jamis was becoming more and more aggressive, if not stronger in terms of damage—in the back of his mind, he wondered if this is going to be either his advantage or _hers_. Both of them had a certain rhythm of each and every parry, lunge, thrust, and lob. It was only a matter or skill.

It never occurred to Jamis why was he being so… giving. It never came to her mind as she was only filled with adrenaline and anticipation of each and every attack. While Kylo managed to be much calmer and more composed compared to his rookie opponent.

 _How pathetic._ He thought to himself, looking at Jamis with a tinge of pity and mockery.

Another strong attack from Kylo and Jamis clumsily stumbles, losing her footing, and losing focus. This time, it was his turn to do the taunting spin in front of her face.

“What you didn’t realize is that… I’m just getting started.”

Jamis heaved, ignoring the beads of sweat trickling down from her temples to her chin; she actually had the perfect stance to grab her lightsaber. She stretched out her hand, palm open, and the blue saber flew straight into her grip and instantaneously the blue shaft of light emerged from its metallic black hilt—in her periphery, the saber illuminated her right side and she felt a energetic burst of emotions that have been welling in her for quite some time now—she manages a smirk and looked at Kylo straight in the eye; she gripped both sabers tight and spun them, adjusting to her preferred—and mastered—handling.

“Take your best shot, kid!” she roared but with a newfound confidence.

Sparks flew, sabers hummed and buzzed, and both fighters exerted their strength, endurance, and dexterity for just a training session. Kylo—being more seasoned in terms of lightsaber combat—noticed that Jamis’s handling of both sabers were just as rustic as the way she wielded only one. He felt the need to improve that trait of hers—if he is going to finish the other end of the bargain. He decided to coach her verbally while they fight, something that he has taken from one of his early lessons dating back to the time he first held a lightsaber.

_Relax your grip on them. Any more pressure and you’ll go stumbling like a protocol droid!_

A memory of Luke—and his voice—rung in Kylo’s mind, rather Ben’s mind, it was one of the earliest lessons that he had received from his uncle when he was young, when he was still staying in Luke’s Jedi temple and academy… before he succumbed.

“You’re putting too much force on it,” uttered Kylo.

This took Jamis aback, the strength and force of her attack softened, and she was surprised to hear him talk this way—in a calm, mentor-like tone.

“What?”

“I meant your attacks are still flimsy, but you have stance, the strength of your attacks would only inflict lesser damage because they’re… they’re directionless.”

Jamis raised an eyebrow, she stepped away from him, making sure that this was the _real_ Kylo in front of her.

“That’s why you got easily tired, from what I observed.” He added.

“I only broke a sweat, so what?”

“Any more of that sweat, you’ll be heaving and dragging yourself around the room like a Bantha.”

Jamis let the quick attitude change slide and then readjusted her grip on the sabers, she caught her breath and wiped the sweat off her brow, and noticed Kylo looking at his own saber.

“Get some rest first, we’ll continue in a bit,” he shyly muttered.

“I wasn’t getting any better, was I?” Jamis uttered, piling up the nerve to say it when she felt ashamed.

“You’ll get there,” Kylo attempted to console her.

“Right… my knowledge with these things weren’t really that… whole.”

“I can see that,” nodded Kylo. “Who was your mentor—the one who taught you how to use that?”

There was a brief pause from Jamis, the silence loomed around the room, Kylo was waiting for her answer but she was trying to fight back her tears as she bit her lip.

She took a deep breath first, then she said firmly and simply while choking on tears and loneliness, “To be honest… I don’t know where he is now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's here. It took some time because I was readjusting my body clock by sleeping earlier and then I had some other things to do like editing works from my writers of the school paper, a documentary for one of my major subjects, and revising my thesis before it actually gets hard-bound. But here ya go!


	6. A Long Way Ahead

Their break from the training session eased the strenuousness of the new training regimen. Jamis eased her breathing that caused her to heave, catching every inch of breath that she could catch, and massaging the throbbing veins on her temples. In a place as sterile as their training room, it feels suffocating—as if the walls close in every hour and then into every minute—and the only life forms present in the very place is just Jamis and Kylo.

While resting, Jamis toyed with her lightsabers, lining them up in parallel lines on the floor—perfect twins, but very different in nature: the other is peaceful and diplomatic, whilst the other is a lethal yet mysterious persona.

Kylo noticed the way she uses the Force to move things—particularly on her lightsabers and how she tore apart a huge chunk of the platform in the hangar the first time they encountered—he has not fully deduced if she has practiced her control of it or did the Force control _her_ ; then he realizes that he has a long way laid in front of him for training this naïve bounty hunter, as for Jamis, she knew that she has yet to learn and this single day of sparring is not going to cover a whole lot of ground of learning for her.

“You know you’re not going that far if you play with it like that,” Kylo remarked.

“What? I’m just lining them up,” Jamis defended.

“I meant the Force, how you use it. You have no consistency or uniformity as to how, when, and where you’re going to use it,” he began lecturing.

Jamis sat there, across him, listening to him, giving her a sermon like an adult to a child; to her, it was sort of chilling to see that he can look at her straight in the eye without any short glimpses on the side while he goes on and on ranting. It just comes to show that whenever he is angry or gradually being enraged, this is how he acts—regardless of who the person is.

“So, does this mean that you’re just going to lecture me or are you going to train me in using it properly?” she said, calmly.

“You’re not getting anywhere by just lining up your lightsabers in a straight line.”

She shifted into a cross-legged posture, suddenly, her soft playfulness melted away as she prepared to listen to Kylo—sensing that he has something in store for her in their training.

“Wait here.”

Immediately, he stands up and leaves her alone in the room. As he has exited the place, he placed a huge amount of faith on Jamis—hoping that she will not ditch the place—but since she is a reasonable and considerate person despite her brash and feisty attitude, she is easy to talk to.

While waiting for Kylo, she decided to toy again with her things—the staff she has brought with her when she first entered the room and her twin lightsabers—she dared herself to try and open the door but without the intention of escaping, but for some reason it does not budge at all, unlike earlier before they started sparring.

Her attempt on the door resulted in failure, and instead, she made use of the time and silence to meditate—she fixed herself on where she sat, straightened her back, and relaxed her body until she could feel not a single stiff joint.

In the silence, there is nothing, she hears nothing. In the silence, she felt _something_ but it was ominous as it was shrouded in darkness—as if keeping itself hidden away from her sights and wanting to stay that way—her consciousness did not follow this unknown entity and allowed a newfound sensation envelop her in the dimness of the room.

_Ben, I’m here…_

Again, the voice has made its visit in Kylo’s mind, causing him to stop in his tracks again. He winced the moment the voice pierced into his mind.

_Please don’t leave me, Ben…_

“I… I didn’t want to. I couldn’t…” he whimpered, “But I _had_ to.”

Kylo continued walking in the corridor, after recovering from that brief episode with the voice that perpetually haunts him. Shortly, he reaches one of the very few sub-rooms of the main control room; he ordered two cadets to fetch him droids ranging from small to big that can be used for the next phase of Jamis’s practice—he waited for these cadets to achieve this meager errand, but of course, they did not speak of any complaint about the task and its nature.

Eventually, the cadets found old droids that do not seem to be working anymore—an MSE-6, a BB-9E, a Sentry Droid, and an interrogator droid. Kylo requested the cadets to bring them over to the doorstep of the room where he and Jamis are training in—they followed him, seeing that they are not fully aware of the existence of that room until now.

The door opened its mouth and entered Kylo along with the cadets bringing the heaps of deactivated droids.

“Did I disturb you?” Kylo asked nonchalantly.

“I was about to finish anyway,” she grumbled.

She noticed the droids on the hovering trolley, Kylo simply pointed the floor to them and they gently put it there, then they anxiously waited for his signal for their dismissal and they scurried out of the room. It gave Jamis the idea that this room they are in has very, very few witnesses.

“What’s that?” asked Jamis sheepishly.

Kylo answered the question as vague as he can, “Something to help you with your training.”

She received it with a raised eyebrow, “I’m listening…”

“Right, I suppose it’s best to start small,” he said calmly.

“Define small,” she jests, but he is not having it.

“Your lightsabers have done their time, I’m thinking of something else we could use,” said Kylo while lining the small toy-like droids that should have been jettisoned this morning. “Besides, lightsabers aren’t the only thing that you’ll lift up into the air. You’ll have other options too,”

Jamis examined the droids, “Like trash?” she asked sheepishly.

Kylo shot her a look and he continued fixing the droids, checking if they were indeed deactivated and do not have the slightest chance of spontaneously reactivating.

Later, she eyed on the patrol droid that Kylo did not seem to bother standing even though it was a spherical droid. So she focused on that droid, slightly reached out her hand, and exerted her mind’s energy on that inanimate object. Little by little, it nudged on its own, until it broke free from the line where it was placed… and then it began dragging, pulling itself rather than rolling on its own, and it finally drew the attention of Kylo.

 _There she is… at it again._ Kylo grumbled mentally.

“Why are you so frustrated every time I do this?” Jamis suddenly blurts out.

Kylo is taken aback, he did not realize that she can also sense feelings—she _is_ strong with the Force after all. When the droid had gotten close enough to Jamis, her hands shifted into a different position—both hands suspended in mid-air, palms open—and the ball-droid was floating between her palms, barely holding it up.

“You should talk,” Kylo muttered, “You’re the one who is unstable.”

Immediately, Jamis dropped the droid, its fall caused a dull, clanging echo across the room. Kylo’s comment had triggered Jamis’s loss of focus. She tried levitating the patrol droid again, but it was not rising as smoothly as the first time, for her mind was rattled and her insecurity has begun nagging her. Again, Jamis tried to do it again, but it was no use, the thing weakly dragged itself up and shuddered as it levitated as if it put too much weight on its own person for Jamis to lift it.

Jamis sighed. In her head, the same comment rang, but it was not Kylo’s voice—it was more aggressive and ill-willed—and she tried to fight it while lifting the spherical droid back up in the air. Her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes were shut, and her fingers curled inward as if putting in more force in lifting the object… until it suddenly dented and crumpled up like a piece of paper!

Losing focus, Jamis broke free from the mental bondage, she gasped her air as she massaged her wrists and hands. The metal scrap fell to the ground again. Kylo witnessed everything. Jamis’s head ached and her back rose up and down as she caught her breath.

 _She is unstable… too unstable, but powerful._ He thought.

“I don’t get you,” he commented, and Jamis weakly turned to him asking him to clarify what he just said, “There are times you are strong, there are times you aren’t—what is really with you?”

“Well, I guess you could say I’m not as _practiced_ as you are when it comes to…” Jamis glanced at her hands and then the patrol droid, “This.”

“Then we’re going to take a lot of time just to teach you how to use it right,”

“Whatever you say,” Jamis sighed in defeat, having no choice at all but to go with Kylo’s flow.

Deep inside her, she knows she wants to master this ability—not just by wielding her lightsabers—but this unseen force that she is able to pull with its strings under her every whim. However, the Force does not always go with her favor—which explains why there are instances why she could do things that are obviously beyond her own strength and instances that she could not at all, but most of the time, the Force does not get along with her and she cannot fully understand why… yet.

With the remaining droids lined up for her training use, Kylo sat down behind the line but with distance.

“Now, try reaching out to one of these droids—it doesn’t matter which, just choose one of them,” said Kylo.

Jamis sat down opposite Kylo, but had an adequate distance from the line of droids. She did not take a good long look at these droids so she would know which one she is reaching out to. She straightened her back again, relaxed, and tried to reach out—this time without hand gestures—and for a brief moment, it was nothing but awkward silence.

Kylo observed her ways and methods as to how she would use the Force. Then he watched how she would call to it to work in her favor.

“How are you calling out to it in the first place?” Kylo interrupted her.

“I… I don’t know, I just… _do_ ,”

His eyebrows furrowed. Her answer felt like a mockery in disguise. How could she—a mere bounty hunter—reply like that as if it was nothing but a simple trick while _he_ had to undergo strenuous—and oftentimes, quite abusive—training regimens for him to practice and then master this ability.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s hard to explain! You think I’d be able to comprehend this easily like you did? Need I remind you that I had no teacher whatsoever who knows this stuff!” she fumed.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, “Point taken. Let’s just start small with these for now,” he said, eyes on the tiny droids he had lined up.

And so Jamis resumed—however she tried calling out to the Force—and shortly thereafter, she became relaxed and focused. She had no particular droid, she was allowing the Force to bring her whatever droid. Although that was her problem: she does not know how to use it properly and only does very spontaneously, she thinks it is an omnipotent object that controls the individual or the target object, and she thought she had to communicate with it as if it were a sentient, intelligent being. From this, Kylo buried his face in his gloved hands, sighed deeply, and pressed the bridge of his nose while sitting in front of this unbelievable girl trying to use the Force to pull a dead droid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh good Lordy, finally, I managed to finish this chapter! ;;A;; I had so much to do and I couldn't even get my hands on the file of this document. But now I do and I sure did take my sweet time in completing this. I was kinda doubting the overall quality of this chapter, and I was afraid that it might downgrade the total quality of the story because I wanted to upload this chapter since I don't want you guys to keep you waiting for so long because of my academics ohohohoho no no no. Comments and feedback is appreciated. Let me try to save myself to graduate for a few weeks and I should be all good in doing more of the chapters in the speed of light... hopefully.


	7. A Work in Progress

The weeks went on. Kylo had organized a regimen for her on specific days of the week. For instance, he would train her for four days in a row for using the Force—making her more aware and familiar with it—and then the remaining days of the week would be spent for her lightsaber combat.

On the advent of the second level of her training, she has had trouble with her footing as the speed and tempo of the footwork increased day by day. Whenever she performs in stances that she thinks would be good form, she ends up stumbling or being easily toppled by Kylo by just a simple sweeping kick. Kylo would remark on her spinning techniques as “clumsy” and “as if she was playing with a toy sword”, half-meaning to discourage her but actually making her think of other ways on how to handle it properly and not just recycling the same form in different patterns.

“Again!” Jamis bellowed with all the breath remaining in her lungs as she picked herself up from the floor.

Drenched in sweat, holding the lightsaber close to her cheek, gripping on the hilt with both hands, she slowly circled around Kylo who was in an offensive position.

Kylo pointed the tip of his ragged lightsaber at her while she circled, “Do that any longer and I just might lunge at you when you least expect it,”

“I guess I’ve sharpened my reflexes weeks ago,” she snarked.

“We’ll see about that.”

Kylo waited and timed his attack, his eyes followed her every move, and she kept her eyes on him. Impatience was gradually eating over its opposite in her system. She cannot wait any longer for the right time to strike.

The almost-quiet hum of Jamis’s lightsaber had slipped through Kylo’s hearing, she was already ready to lob at him and he had blocked her at the very last split second. He had lost the balance of his stance and supported himself by merely leaning down to not go against Jamis’s force. Indeed, the force of her attack was strong and the weight she is putting on him is heavy… but for how long can she stay like that?

Jamis pulls away and readjusts for another attack, this time she put her dexterity to good use—using her twin lightsabers, she sent a salvo of attacks and strikes at him. Stepping away when necessary, she does it every once in awhile to maneuver and try different attack patterns. While the impact of each of her attack is light and nimble, the overall damage was impressive.

Kylo saw a glint in her eyes as the red saber illuminated her irises as their lightsabers collided, he saw this the moment she came at him with a small jumping attack. For a moment, Jamis was oozing with so much emotions, he does not where to start. What could she possibly be thinking?

_ Confused, fazed, lost… Has she always been like this? How long could she have survived in a state like that? _ He wondered.

Now her fighting has lost its form. She was going all over the place. Reckless spinning and striking, there was no more rhythm and timing, she just struck him whenever she had the chance that he is out in the open.

“What kind of fighting is that?! You have no pattern, no organization… you’re an easy target if you’re not careful,” Kylo chided.

He had pushed her away from him using a nudge with the Force, breaking apart the connection of their sabers, he pushed her to a quite distance for him to speak and hinder her from attacking any more. Across him, the lithe bounty hunter had her shoulders slumped, knees in a wobbly position, and gasping for breath; from her point of view, the suffocating heat inside the room just disoriented her.

“You have to develop your own form. I’ve seen the way you fight—one day you’re impressive, and then the next day you’re reckless, what kind of combination is that?” scolded Kylo.

Jamis does not answer. She reached out her left hand, palm open, and a flask flew right into her palm with her fingers immediately caging the thing. She greedily chugged a throatful of water and let the drops run down her chin.

“Alright then, if I’m going to develop a form, might as well continue fighting you then,” said Jamis.

Kylo shook his head and sighed, “No. Other than trying to hit me, think of other ways where you can get me.”

She kept that in mind.

Both readied themselves in their stances, they closed the distance between them with a charging run and their lightsabers clashed. Jamis tried her best in making a perfect stance to combat Kylo’s prowess. She used her dexterity to her advantage—one of the smartest and wisest moves she could pull—and launched a salvo of swirls and swings at him. However, despite his huge built, Kylo was also nimble, so it challenged her to look for a window of opportunity.

Another mistake: she had underestimated him in a single second.

Jamis knew who she is facing, she saw the way he fought, and she saw his coordination—nothing like she has ever seen before.

Truly, one must never underestimate either a Sith or a Jedi.

With careful eyes, she followed his movements and whenever she saw the chance, she would take it. She knows she has to be so opportunistic—just like how she always is in contracted hunts.

The sleight of Kylo’s heel had alarmed her as her sharp and watchful eye had caught the act, her reflexes had warned her, and Jamis prepared herself for what’s coming to her. She knew that she did not need to wait for Kylo’s lightsaber to clash with hers, she knew she needed to do something differently.

The closure felt like it is happening very slowly but that was enough time for Jamis to think fast. Of course, she evaded it but followed it with an attack from behind—she was about to lunge at Kylo but while supporting himself on the floor, his free hand had taken hold of his lightsaber and blocked her attack, but he cannot stand up as Jamis was taking the upper hand of the sparring.

From there, Kylo could feel her emotions coursing through out her system, and he felt it as if it was an invisible wave crashing on not too far from him; he saw the frenzy in her eyes and not the faze that clouded her sight, and for some reason, he felt a small spark within her—perhaps not yet strong enough to ignite a flame that has been kept extinguished in her being.

“You have so much yet to learn,” muttered Kylo.

Weeks had past with the same routine of Jamis going to that vast room alone with Kylo. Within her personal progress, she has become less flimsy and reckless compared to the first time she picked a duel with Kylo, her gracefulness and fluidity had gained form and consistency.

They would return to stay in that vast room for the rest of the week, Jamis would emerge from that room exhausted and beads of sweat would dot her face, she could barely lift herself up and drag her feet across the floor to reach her room. Much later, Kylo saw the disinterest in her face.

“Is there something wrong?”

“I bet you can tell that I have probably grown tired of the same pattern of practice,” she commented.

Kylo took a deep breath and thought for some time, almost immediately, he thought of something, “Alright, here’s another test I have in mind for you,”

Jamis sat down but kept her gaze at him, “Right, I’m sure you do.”

“But first, please don’t laugh,” Kylo started, “In half an hour, you stay and wait here while I leave the room. I will hide into the deepest parts of the ship and you will try to find me without inquiring anybody in the ship—not even the droids—and you will do so by trusting the Force.”

Jamis furrowed her brows, “That’s kinda impossible, don’t you think?

“Only if you choose to think that way,” Kylo backfired.

Without warning, Kylo left the room and Jamis did as she was told. She patiently waited in the room, passing the half-hour allotted with meditating and trying to “connect” with the Force—which she highly doubted she could successfully do; by the time half an hour had passed, Kylo probably had hidden someplace unfamiliar to Jamis.

“I guess I should go look for him now.” Jamis tells herself as she stood up.

She focused on the door and with a wave of her hand—with a try of luck—it opened. She got through the door and stood before the hallway. Jamis took a deep breath and concentrated. She recalled his instructions and went forward.

“So much for a new way to train me,” she muttered, vexed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this was so late! I had so much to do with college (like major subjects, managing the school paper, and prepping for graduation) that I didn't have time to touch this chapter. But now I have nothing academic to do anymore, I'll have time to write the fanfic!


	8. Trust Your Feelings

Jamis continued to stalk through the halls, depending on her senses while she searches for a trace of Kylo’s tracks—but she can’t seem to do so—and she does so while passing by watchful and judgmental eyes from the crew and the Stormtroopers.

Over the course of their training, the crew has gotten used to Jamis’s presence, they have also acknowledged her growing skill, making her formidable and respected as if she were in a military rank—but not everyone seem to have given their ounce of respect for her.

Jamis was coincidentally going to pass by Hux and a couple of lieutenants by the entryway of the bridge. She did not pay much attention to the three of them but her eye has caught with the lieutenants’, they briefly nodded at her while she made a slight downward tilt at them, then she ignored Hux and kept going. Internally enraged and baffled, Hux dismissed the two lieutenants and they returned to their stations in the bridge, then he watched Jamis walk away into the distance.

“How laughable,” Hux snarled under his breath, “My _own_ men saluting to that stray scavenger. He has indirectly led my men to praise the wench like a general behind my back and her influence supported it.” he chided as he strode back to the bridge.

Kylo had hid himself in one of his sanctuaries—no, not the room that had his grandfather’s skull—but a secret room that no one else knows but him, the architect, and the engineer of his Star Destroyer. Considering that the architect, the engineer, and their workers are not the least bit Force-sensitive, Kylo has somehow shrouded the room with all the Force he can gather within himself and place it upon the room, both on the inside and the outside. He has discovered this upon himself and has not fully disclosed it to anybody—not even to Snoke—and decided that he must master it by himself without any sort of guide. Thinking that if he hid in this concealed room, Jamis would not find him and she would admit defeat, and then he would reveal himself and the room; he started to assume if it would just encourage her to be trained more or will it just discourage her. For the time being, he meditated until he slowly felt memories—old ones—rush into his mind.

_Ben, come on, you’re thinking about it too much!_

It was familiar. He can somehow place the voice but not the face as it was obscure whenever he tried to materialize it.

“I wonder where he is?”

Jamis used her bounty hunter instincts as she searched for the slightest clues of his whereabouts, little pieces of clues that could somehow lead her to him, but alas, there was nothing much of help until she tried to focus.

_Focus._

She told herself.

_Focus._

She told her mind.

_Focus._

Without hesitation, she began heading towards a particular pattern of directions without even stopping—she only stops for a brief period of time when she encounters forks or intersection that may have muddled her sense of direction.

 _He’s close… I can somehow sense it… is this the Force he was telling me about?_ She thought.

 Nevertheless, she continued on, the energy pulsating within her grew stronger as she strode. When she felt she was close to her goal, she was puzzled as she closed her eyes again to feel the Force and saw a door.

 _The_ door.

She followed it, mapped it all out in her mind, and not long enough she finally found it—the door was surging with so much Force that it overwhelmed her. Jamis wondered if this was all of his work, if the imprint of the Force on that door was his handiwork—considering that she had seen his prowess in combat—and if she could ever at least make an opening enough for her to push herself in.

“Okay, this is definitely _not_ my level of Force,” she told herself as she rolled her eyes with vexation.

Jamis loosened her shoulders, raised her hands with palms open mid-air, and then projected with all her might to tear down this wall of power that he had concealed himself with.

 _This is definitely, definitely not like moving rocks or metal platforms!_ Her subconscious screamed as she struggled.

On the other side, there sat Kylo, patiently waiting and sensing her presence just outside the room and he could feel her frustration gradually turning into anger, this finally signified how much the Force resonates with her—if what he assumed was really true, if she was as strong as he thought she would be.

Beads of sweat trickled down Jamis’s temples and neck, indeed, the door was nothing short of difficult, it had required her full strength and concentration if she ever wanted an opening. Kylo could feel all her effort exerting on the other side and he was just sitting there in full anticipation, but he has equipped himself with the right amount of expectation so he would not disappoint himself.

 _Don’t overthink it…_ A voice instructed Jamis, and she obeyed.

She finally tore down the wall that Kylo had built, it was no more, she gave herself some time to relax before she could actually open the door. Shortly after, she finally opened the door and Kylo straightened his back as he sat.

“Impressive,” Kylo commented smugly.

“How does this became vital to my training?” Jamis heaved, she stepped in to the room and confronted the young lord.

“This task would signify whether how much the Force resonates with you,” Kylo leaned forward, “And it seems that it has quite the connection with you.”

Jamis tried to grasp the concept of his message—she only had an inkling.

“Okay, so what next? I assume this time you’d want me to use my mind,”

“Clever,” he commented, “But I suppose this would require more energy from you.”

“It sure will on a daily basis,” muttered Jamis.

Kylo explained to her what she could be possibly doing next. He explained to her how the Force clings to beings like them and how they were able to wield it. Jamis felt like she has heard this somewhere before although she could not place her finger in it. Even after that feat earlier, she doubts her capability to use the Force. She wanted to ask Kylo the question why does her power with the Force only come in occasionally, like that time in the hangar.

“It only comes in—no, it kicks in—when I feel…” she sighed in frustration, lost in looking for the word, “What’s the right word for it?”

“Angry? Agitated?”

“Err… close enough,” she muttered as she gave up looking for the accurate word. “It just kicks in when I feel that way, I guess ‘threatened’ could be another word.”

Kylo understood what it meant fully. As a matter of fact, he has not forgotten his uncle’s teachings to him, even with that chip on his shoulder he still cannot bury it in his memory. It has always been there. He cannot remove it in him. Somehow, he has felt the same way Jamis has but this only happened when he was younger. He remembered when he did not know how to control the Force and letting his feelings connect with it, which of course brought him to his frustration, and it led to Luke being more determined to teach his nephew the right way to do it—without letting his negative feelings get the best of him.

“Have you ever felt that way?” Jamis said out of the blue, but not in an intruding way.

Kylo was startled by the question, “Y-Yes… I have,”

“I see… Well, what do I practice next?”

“You will learn how to wield the Force and letting it flow through you completely,”

Kylo stood up, now he towers over Jamis with his height again, and when Jamis sensed that nothing was happening, she spread her arms and shrugged, waiting for something to happen.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” chided Kylo.

Jamis scoffed, “What happened to the ‘I’ll teach you how to wield the Force and let it flow in you’ thing?”

 _Impatient, impatient, impatient._ He chided again in his mind.

“You will have to await my instructions, give me time to prepare your next lesson,”

Then Kylo strode exiting the room, with Jamis following suit by his tail, and again the room was concealed from the mere eyes of those who are not sensitive with the Force. Shortly after the light-hearted training segment—for a change—Jamis retreated to her room and washed up before changing into much drier clothes. In her room, she was surprised to see that some of her things from her freighter ship have been transferred to her quarters. A silver protocol droid just entered her room shortly after she started to wonder who brought her things inside.

The droid, ever so politely, acknowledges her presence and introduced itself—like it always does to anybody and everybody in the ship—to Jamis as her droid-in-waiting, much like a handmaid, but a genderless, silvery, sentient droid. It introduced itself specifically as TC-846 and while it is genderless and does not identify itself with any, it had quite a feminine tone of voice, perhaps to give Jamis a sense of hospitality.

“Did they order you to bring these?” asked Jamis.

TC-846 leaned to its side, over Jamis’s shoulder, and spotted the set of clothes on her bed, then it straightened up to answer her, “No, Miss, they did not send me to retrieve your things and send them in here. Perhaps it was another droid who did,”

“Perhaps,” Jamis agreed, half-heartedly, sensing that it was neither TC-846 or some other droid prior, although she shrugged off the thought.

“Do you need me for something, Miss? Your bath? Or perhaps, some refreshments to replenish your energy?”

“No, I’m fine, TC. Thank you,”

“I see. If you don’t mind, Miss, I will just shut down temporarily,”

“Go ahead.”

It stood on one side of the room, the yellow glow behind its eyes died out, it stood still and stiff until Jamis would trigger it to reactivate. Jamis decided to put away her clothes and then lie down for a while, to recharge after that grueling task. Eventually, she fell asleep, as her body desperately craved for rest. Then her dreams caved in. They were quick and fleeting, not long enough for her to register in her subconsciousness, but some of the images were familiar—and one thing always seemed to repeat.

_Trust them—your feelings. They can never go wrong with what they want you to see._

Waking up in cold sweat and gasping for breath, Jamis sprung up from bed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. The sound of her gasp had woken up TC-846.

“Oh, uh… err, is there something wrong, Mistress?”

“I… I am fine, TC.” she reassured.

“You seem to be in quite a distress, do you want me to check on your vital signs? I am equipped with the basic medical specifications designed to accommodate minor to mid-range health problems to any organic, living organism.” the droid chattered on as Jamis ignored it halfway.

“No need, please. Thank you for your concern,”

“As a matter of fact, Mistress Jamis, it is in my programming to serve and accommodate my masters’ needs.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Jamis took her jacket and decided to check on the Stellar Wind. The halls were unusually empty, as they were always bustling with fleet captains, Stormtroopers, and the occasional General Hux. Clutching together the side of her jacket to cover her chest as the chill within the ship tend to bite, she quickened her pace, hastily and eagerly walking to pass by the doorless entryway to the bridge; she sensed Kylo and Hux’s presence, apparently both of them are brainstorming again, but she continued on. Of course, he would have sensed her pass by—and so he did—his shift of attention from Hux’s briefing to the sound of Jamis’s footsteps disturbed Hux himself. The general rolled his eyes as he saw Kylo slightly turn his head to the direction of the entryway.

“Something caught your mind, Ren?”

“Nothing.” Kylo said firmly.

“So can we continue on with the briefing? I am not done yet,”

Kylo turned away from the direction of the entryway and resumed planning with Hux who was really indulged with the idea of further eradicating the Rebellion and at the same time searching for Luke Skywalker. While this may sound like a hopeless—if not ambitious—plan for either of them, their fixation cannot be wavered. They were so dead-set in doing this that, even to Jamis, it sounds like a fruitless plan.

“They’re not going to make it,” Jamis muttered to herself. “The Rebellion—although small—is relentless when it comes to being on their feet.”

Jamis is not wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, a lot of things sure did happen within a 2-month MIA/hiatus. I finished all my subjects, hunted for a new laptop because mine was practically dying already, I graduated at the end of May, and now I am officially unemployed... and got a fresh, new laptop. So, for now, I am resting before I actually find a job. I guess have some time in my hands now to update this while I am juggling adult life and vacationing post-graduation.


	9. A Looming Feeling

Although intriguing, Jamis did not continue to eavesdrop on Hux and Kylo’s plan in weeding out the Rebellion, instead she headed to the hangar where she expected her ship would still be. From the window of the corridor facing the landing bay, she saw that the Stellar Wind remained untouched since the past few days, she went for the lift and made her way to the floor. As soon as she got off the elevator, she walks up to the entrance ramp and hits the button for it to open.  The door hissed as it lowered to the floor, without waiting for it to fully touch the ground, Jamis hopped in and went for the main power hatch—before she could, she snagged the toolbox from the compartment in the cockpit and then headed for the hatch.

One of the floorboards is the opening that leads to the network of wires, cables, and outlets that source from the main hatch. Fortunately, for her, she could easily fit into the labyrinthine hatch without the risk of having a bad back afterwards. Minutes of poring through dust-caked cables and outlets, she accidentally kicked her wrench a few inches away from her when she was about to turn around to get the tool.

“Oh great,” she scoffed at herself, frustrated, until she remembered her training earlier. She wondered if she tore down that Force wall from the door where Kylo was hiding, she could easily pull in that wrench back into her hand.

“Okay, focus.” She told herself, and slowly, she raised her hand with her palm positioned as if holding something and drew all her concentration on the wrench.

It shuddered, it clattered on the metal grates, and it gradually inched closer to her; when she noticed it inching, she was delighted and poured more concentration to it—one would think, she may be overdoing it with that kind of effort she is exerting. It shortly became her undoing.

**_THUNGK!!_ **

The wrench was pulled in too much that it punched her left cheekbone.

The impact made her stumble back and she hoped that the clanging did not draw any attention from the outside—although given how hollow and empty the ship is, the sound may have traveled way out—dazed from the hit, it took a few blinks for her to lose the swirling vision before her eyes. She sat up and sighed in great self-induced vexation. She gently touched the part of her cheek where the wrench had landed and she winced as she attempted to press it slightly. That is obviously going to leave a mark.

“Okay, this is getting a bit overwhelming.” Jamis muttered.

Nonetheless, she finished her habitual maintenance of the ship and after she was done on the underground power hatch, she walked to the cockpit and checked the control board to see if everything was in order. After that, she headed outside and climbed up the flat roof of the ship to check on the exterior for any scorches, dents, or lost plate covers—or if any of the technicians had tampered or altered the wirings underneath the plates. This time, she intentionally left the toolbox on the ground for her to try using the Force again to hoist it up. Of course, she was more cautious than earlier, she tried not to overdo it this time especially since pilots, Stormtroopers, and mechanics are roaming around the hangar floor—not to mention the commanders in the platforms overseeing the day’s progress.

Jamis tried to calm down first. Then, she positioned her hands directly at the toolbox on the ground—it shuddered like the wrench but given that it had more weight than the wrench, she anticipated that it would shudder as her mental grip would not be that firm yet. She relaxed and closed her eyes, letting the Force flow—as Kylo says it—within her. Not long after, the toolbox gingerly landed next to her feet, she loosened up and opened her eyes, she saw the result of her effort sitting by her shoes. Proud of herself, she smiled, and proceeded to do her maintenance check.

She did not notice that Kylo had been watching her from the window. He observed how she hoisted the toolbox up to the roof of her freighter. He sensed a bit of a struggle in terms of concentration. He sighed to himself and headed to the hangar. As soon as he got closer to the ship and Jamis, he stood there waiting for her to notice him.

“What are you doing?” asked Kylo in a softer, less scary tone of voice.

“Oh hey there, prince, I’m just rectifying whatever your technicians did to my ship.” Said Jamis, thus acknowledging his presence.

“You doubt the quality of work that my crew has to offer?”

“Well, I don’t exactly know them for me to put my trust into their handiwork, right?”

Kylo did not speak after that, he Force-pulled a stepladder and placed it by the rim of the exterior and climbed up. He bent and knelt beside Jamis, examining what she is doing, and noticed the bruise on her cheekbone.

“What happened to your face?”

“Just accidentally bumped into something,” she replied without looking at him in the eye and continued to work.

He gently held her chin with his fingers and turned her head to face him. He got a better look of the bruise—it has become a purple blotch on her face a few minutes prior to him arriving to the hangar—and Jamis was surprised by the gesture because the last contact she has had with him was a kick to the abdomen during training.

The touch was obviously new to Jamis, she tried to not act surprised but her eyes betrayed her—she hoped that Kylo did not see that.

“Ah, it’s not that serious, it will be gone in a week.” He reassured.

“I’ll just patch it up with bacta later,” Jamis added.

Jamis gently pulled away from Kylo’s hold and resumed her work, she did not dismiss him straightforwardly but her action signaled that he can leave her—but he did not.

“Don’t you have someplace to be?” Jamis chided without looking at him again.

“Not that I can think of.”

Jamis realized that he was attempting to make a deadpan humor statement only for it to sound like he was serious and stern, so she disregarded his answer and continued with her welding and just let him be. To the pass the time, Kylo decided to sit on the edge of the ship’s roof and let his legs dangle as he catches glimpses of Jamis working from time to time.

“Tell me what’s troubling you to the point that you look at me every ten minutes.” sighed Jamis.

“You’re thinking about something—your thoughts are quite loud—and I can’t help but hear them,” said Kylo.

“So you know every word that my mind is saying?”

He shook his head and clarified, “No, I only hear the rumbles—not exactly the words or sentences—but the feeling is there.”

“Of course.” She said as she rolled her eyes and continued with the welding.

There was a brief silence between them before either of them decided to open up and break the silence. Jamis was too busy finishing her mechanical work while Kylo had particularly nothing important to do at the moment.

“You’re not exactly the master when it comes to starting conversations, huh, Ren?” said Jamis, with half the snide.

“No, as a matter of fact, I’m not,” Kylo replied but a thought came into his mind shortly after, “However, I have been wondering—where did you come from? Who taught you how to use those lightsabers? Were you always a bounty hunter?”

Jamis stopped mid-work, she put down her torch, and turned her attention to Kylo—she took a good long look at him and sighed. Of course, she did not expect him to throw her that much questions in a single sentence.

“I’ll tell you later… when I’m finished.” Softly, she said before resuming to her work.

Kylo was taken aback by the tone of voice she used—there was something, a feeling that he cannot name, in her voice—and so he waited, but he continued to watch; he noticed the expression in her eyes, it seemed heavy, as if they were shouting that there is a burden she is carrying. His questions must have prompted her to think about what to answer—what is she going to say?

Minutes later, Jamis was already finishing up her work on the circuits underneath one of the exterior plates. She fixed back in the screws and put away her tools.

“Okay, I guess that’s about it,” she sighed in relief, then she turned to Kylo, she remembered that he had questions for her—so she laid back and propping her arms behind her. “Oh, that’s right, I remember—you still got questions for me. Are we really gonna talk about it here on top of my ship or do you wanna come inside? I don’t think you’re comfortable with displaying yourself in front of your crew.”

He did not speak.

“I guess… you’re all right with here?”

Again, he did not speak. He just stared at her with the visor of his mask reflecting her face.

She sighed.

“Alright, wise guy, here or inside? Anyway, the sound of drills and machines just kinda ruins the mood of whatever it is you’re trying to pull—so I guess the best choice is to just really come inside the ship. Let’s go.”

She climbed down the stepladder, as she got to the floor, she looked up and waited for Kylo to get down from the roof of the ship; when he joined her back on the ground, she led him inside the Stellar Wind—specifically into the lounge where the couch and dejarik table is.

“Go ahead and make yourself comfortable,” Jamis gestured to the couch and left for a while to return her tools.

Little does she know that Kylo had already taken his personal tour into her ship—back when she was still imprisoned in that cramped cell—but he decided to take another good look at it and get a feel of being inside another freighter ship, only this time, not as a child but as a full-grown adult.

“Do you want anything to drink? I got some Jawa beer, Pallie wine, Cassius tea, Ruby bliel—all from my travels of hunting, of course, one of the perks, really—there’s some Corellian drinks here too, and my personal favorite: Mandalorian wine. I haven’t exactly restocked since, you know, I’m stuck here.” She snickered while stating that fact.

“No, I… I don’t want anything.” Kylo replied.

“Suit yourself, but you know Corellia tends to make some of the smoothest drinks around—I mean, this is my personal take on it, don’t know if you got your own preferences,” she said while searching something to drink for herself. “She’s not much but she was my home for as long as I can remember.” She added, loudening her voice so he could hear her through the hollow corridors of the ship.

When Jamis returned with a glass of Corellian ale in hand, she sat down in the couch facing him across with the small table standing between them. Of course, with Jamis being in her own ship, she decided to slump against the backrest as if she was sinking but that is just her savoring the rare comfort of her ship that her bedroom does not have.

Kylo noticed the drink in her hand, he did not want to show that he noticed, but he has recognized the drink whenever his family had gatherings and his parents were especially fond of it—his father, Han, introduced it as one of the best drinks in Corellia and that it was a type of ale—he remembers that he used to sneak a sip of the taste and see what makes it so likable for his parents.

A young boy would not still have the taste buds for alcohol, obviously. That is common knowledge. He remembered that it was bitter, it stung in the mouth and tongue if you did not swallow it right away just before the aftertaste begins to kick in, and it was fizzy enough for the bubbles to foam in the mouth.

“So you’re interested where did a little ragtag like me come from?”

Jamis shifted in her seat and took a deep breath, “I was born in Corellia. I literally grew up there. Until, we eventually moved from planet to planet until I can’t really remember all the planets we’ve lived in… anywhere that’s livable, I guess—but I will always be Corellian. Although I have always noticed that… it seemed like we were running away from something or _someone_. I just never bothered to ask because what do I know? I’m just a kid tagging along with her parents.”

“Were they bounty hunters too?”

Jamis took a quick sip from her ale before she spoke, she shook her head in response, “No, not my father,” but she pointed the bottle in-hand at him, “In fact, my mother was the hunter and my dad was the smuggler _and_ pilot. They were the ones who taught me how to fight and how to drive a ship.”

Again, there was that brief silence between Jamis and Kylo, when Jamis noticed that he had been quiet, she offered him an ounce of the ale. She took another glass and poured a portion of her drink to the glass.

“Here,” she attempted to Force-push the glass toward him, the movement of her fingers were slow but fluid and the glass glided gently towards his wrist, “Try it, I think you deserve just a bit of slack.”

She chuckled, watching Kylo pick up the small glass and anticipated a sip from him.

“You’ve never had a taste of that, haven’t you?” she snickered but realized that the joke was not really for the mood looming around them. “Go ahead, take a sip.”

The taste was evidently new to Kylo. The bitterness was sharp, the flavor bursts in the mouth, and once swallowed, the liquid just leaves a slight graze at the wall of the throat. Kylo pursed his lips, his nose crinkled, and he grunted with an ambiguous expression—it was a mix between distaste and the feeling of tasting something new but bitter.

Jamis immediately realized that Kylo was never exposed to this sort of drink, but even if she did not mean ill-will—no matter how childish or snarky it is—the words coming off of her mouth always sound like she is being sarcastic. A habit dying hard.

“Well, here’s a man who’s never tasted the good stuff. Do they always serve you blue milk here?”

“I… I’m just not used to it.”

“Right,” she nodded.

“How’s the bruise?”

She shrugged. “This? It’s fine,” Then she waited for him to recover from the flavor of the ale. “So, what did the Rebellion did to you guys?”

Kylo’s head shot up, looking through the translucent visor of his mask he looked at her straight in the eye. For once, he did not know what to tell her—if he tried, she might call out his bluff or sense his uneasiness—and so he chose to stay quiet.

“Don’t wanna talk about it, huh?” Jamis nodded, realizing that she was walking along the line of Kylo’s little barrier, “Alright. Sorry, didn’t mean to pry anyway. I was just curious.”

To save herself from the awkwardness, she took a quick chug of the ale until only a fourth is left inside the glass. Each time either of them is finished talking or have nothing else to say, there is always the silence hanging around them, urging them to speak to one another about anything that comes into mind; but Jamis seemed to be caught in the moment of taking a good long look at Kylo—she observes the small dents and scratches on the surface, how dull the shine on the metal lining has become, and how he tends to fiddle with his gloved hands every time he is around her, as if he is piling up all the tension in his grasp.

She knows that even if she points that out, he will deny it—like he always does—and would just make up another excuse to mask it. She mentally scoffed at the very thought of it—his habit of denying.

The silence has loomed longer than the moments prior. It gave Jamis some time to relish and gander at her ship, then she spotted her old toy: a T2 remote droid. After that blunder with the wrench in the circuit path, she became more careful and precautious with using the Force. She focused her gaze on the T2 sitting on the stool in the med bay across where she is sitting which was at least a meter far. Jamis positioned her hand, slightly curled her fingers, and motioned her hand as if luring in the thing to her grasp. It fluttered upwards, as soon as she has control of its levitation, her fingers danced and curled, reeling in the little device until it glided across the air, following the invisible line leading to Jamis’s hand; Kylo’s eyes followed the direction of the T2 and he was already judging her usage and methods, he waited until the T2 landed in her grasp—when it did, gingerly her fingers caged with the globe-like device.

Kylo sighed and looked away from her.

“I did it wrong, didn’t I?”

“No… no,” Kylo mumbled. “Just… that thing… it looked familiar. Where’d you get it?”

“Oh you know, flea markets and street vendors,” she replied while she rotated it left and right in her hand, she smiled to herself, “When I saw it in that old woman’s little stall, I felt like I had to get it—it just reminded me of when I was a kid.”

Jamis continued on playing with the T2, motioning her hands as the device follows the movement as it hovers, she did different speeds, a mixture of slow and fast, a combination of twists and turns in opposing directions; Kylo watches her, observes her every move, he gazed at her eyes—which he noticed just now were a soft shade of brown—and saw how she was paying attention to her own actions in using the Force, he wanted to take a better look… but he seemed to withdraw.

He sighed to himself, not letting get through the mouthpiece of his helmet.

_There is so much yet to unravel in this walking mystery of a girl._

But for the moment, he just sat down, tried to finish the remains of his glass and watched Jamis practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never tasted ale. I only tasted beer and tequila. I think I should go out more often haha.


	10. Close to Ready

Deep breaths.

Slow but steady.

Eyes on him. Eyes on her.

It was all about the timing of the strike.

It did not matter first if you were strong or fast—it mattered if you were wise and patient enough to find a window of opportunity from your opponent’s undoing.

A thud, a squeaking skid, and a grunt escaped from Jamis, receiving a blow and a kick from Kylo and an electrostaff which luckily is switched off as they can easily stop a heart in seconds.

“Get up! You are still unbalanced and clumsy,” Kylo chided. “Have I not taught you enough?”

Jamis propped herself up with her own staff—a quarterstaff that was made out of thick and durable metal, the handle wrapped with bandage-like cloth serving as grips for both one- and two-handed handling, and a customized end which she personally installed where an electrostaff’s shock generator can be attached or detached according to the owner’s liking. She adjusted her grip on the staff, hugged its bottom half against her rib—as if in a stance—and pointed the far end at Kylo.

“Again!” she bellowed, gasping for breath and rubbing her abdomen.

Their training was usual: rough, noisy, and almost brutal even though they were not using real weapons. It came close to violent physical contact whenever Kylo would attempt to grapple at her, trap her in a choke, and pin her down—but if Jamis thought fast, she would have countered his grapple and kicked him off of his feet, his weight would not have mattered, the adrenaline would take care of that.

The bounty hunter—though young—has received and landed punches, kicks, and strikes prior to her temporary residency in the Finalizer, she has made several enemies as well as friends from her cantina skirmishes and street brawls, she has taken trophy weapons from her enemies either due to a bet or by her claim; in the world she lived half of her life in, that is a commonplace lifestyle, whilst there may be guards and peacekeepers on certain cities, the underground region of a planet is where you will usually find hunters, scoundrels, and smugglers alike in flocks—where no civilian would dare come through alone in fear of being mugged, or robbed or worse, killed.

In a split second, Jamis gained the upper hand by kicking Kylo on the shin to lose his balance, thus making her escape from his grasp and repaying him with a firm punch to the jaw and a kick on the abdomen—sending Kylo to stagger a few inches away from her; he rolled off the ground and dropped his electrostaff, the weapon clattering away from his hand while Jamis has hers still in-hand. Kylo quickly picked himself up, readied for his next attack and Jamis prepared for this lumbering man who was ironically near her own age; she only had a few seconds left before she could make up her mind between evading and then attacking or the vice versa.

She slipped away from his line of attack, she spun to the right and as soon as she faced front, she clubbed Kylo at the back with the blunt end of her quarterstaff—again, he stumbled. Although she has the swift luxury of savoring this little fragment of victory, she knew better than turning her back from him and immediately claim victory. She learned it the hard way. A memory flashed before her eyes, back when she was naïve and barely a young adult, she was too arrogant back then, she had lost a fight for a pouch filled with 5000 credits; she had turned her back from her felled opponent, basking in cheers in the arena which was her undoing, and ended up being pinned down with a thick-soled boot until she was beaten senseless until she was barely standing up but “saved” by the acting referee of the match—thus, losing her key to survival for that week.

 _“You shouldn’t turn your back on an enemy until they’re dead or unconscious.”_ Sniggered a female bystander who stayed behind when the crowd dispersed while they left her bleeding out and bruised.

It was one of the few lessons young Jamis had learned from one of the scoundrels who eventually became her friend—a Twi’lek whom she had met in a cantina in Mos Espa. That “friendly” advice stuck to her mind long enough to become used as a strategy—and a lesson recall—in the present.

After that evasion and that quick blunt hit on Kylo, she readjusted her stance and prepared her weapon in the offensive in case he lunges at her again with brute force and her assumption was correct; for some reason, she must have struck a nerve in him when she pommeled him and that was the catalyst that ignited his rage. She managed to counter his patterned attacks but she could not find a window where she could land a hit on him—he was hitting too fast.

“Come on, Jamis, use your rage to your advantage! Don’t even hold back,” Kylo instructed.

“Don’t worry, I’m just welling it up,” Jamis responded, smugly.

Three weeks spent on practice, both for physical combat and mental exercises which sharpened Jamis’s skills with the Force. It took Jamis long enough to master and polish her footwork. Her brawn is still there but used to an advantage—she did not charge or attack whenever she saw an opening, she only attacked when she knew the opportunity deemed fit. When she is not overworked and exhausted by sparring practice, she takes her time in practicing in using the Force in the confines of her bedroom, although she has not exactly leveled up from lifting small objects inside her room.

Shortly after, pulling away from the barrage of attacks, Jamis readjusted her stance and there! She found the perfect opportunity to hit him by the ribcage—a sharp lunge of the staff, she dared not in risking of evading the attack to frame herself in doing the perfect attack. Graceful and fluid, her strike landed. A solid thud planted on Kylo’s flesh and he staggered; before he could even stand up or tilt his head up to catch her in his line of sight, Jamis’s quarterstaff found its way on his jawline and then his temple.

Jamis staggered back herself but she shortly caught herself, propping herself up by the end of the staff, she looked at Kylo lying flat on the ground.

“See? I didn’t hold back,” she snickered, as if taunting him.

She fell to the floor, lousily sitting down with one leg folded up and the other resting flat on the floor. She poked his side with her staff to check if he was unconscious.

“I did your rule, Fira… I didn’t turn my back away,” she muttered to herself.

The thought of attempting to turn him over face up using the Force sounded like a child-like idea, but since she was eager about mastering the Force, she gave it a shot. Evidently, Kylo was heavy, but she still tried; her push was not so much as a nudge but she exerted enough effort to roll him over.

“I must’ve hit him… a bit too hard.”

In the silence of that hollow room, she checked for his vital signs to confirm if she really hit him _that_ hard; she placed her hand lightly on his chest in search for at least a single pulse—there was one—then she heard him breathe out very softly through the mouthpiece of his mask, then she wondered if removing his mask was necessary for him to breathe easily.

She realized that she has never seen his real face underneath the mask.

She always have been curious about what he looked like.

But the thing stopping her was that he might kill her if he wakes up and just finds out that his helmet has been taken off by no other than her.

“Yeah, I’m not ready to die yet,” she mumbled.

She was honest to herself, she did not know what else to do while Kylo lay unconscious on the cold floor; she looked around the both of them, she saw their dummy weapons, and she thought it was a good idea to try and lift up both of them. Come to think of it, she has not attempted to lift two things at once using the Force, and so she pointed her hand in the general direction of his electrostaff which was a good meter away from his head and she let go of her own quarterstaff—but immediately was held, mentally, by her through the Force.

As she continued to gesture her arms so as to make the weapons follow her whim, she lured the electrostaff into her hand and examined it—noticing that the shock generator was of a different model than what she has and the shaft was slimmer, she took a closer look at the shock generator and attempted to switch it on; she found the switch, the electricity crackled sharply it made her shoulders jump, it almost reminded her of the thunderstorms of _that_ night of her disturbing past. Suddenly, her heart felt heavy and tossed it aside. As she stared at the unconscious, young Sith lord, she wondered if she could pull off in re-erecting the Force wall that shrouds the room’s door.

 _“I think I just might pass out if I try,”_ she thought to herself. _“Did I hit him **that** hard to make him out cold?”_

Jamis grabbed her staff again and poked Kylo harder at the rib.

“I think you’re just playing this out to boost my morale, Ren, well, guess what? It isn’t, now get up!”

“You used that hate inside you too much, you knocked me out cold,” Kylo sighed.

Kylo popped and cracked the stiffness out his neck and joints before leaving the room with Jamis, while she was trailing behind him before he shrouds the room again, the thought of putting up the wall herself came into her head; when they got out, Jamis watched Kylo lock the room using the Force and then the faint, shimmering wall is up in front of the door again.

“Will I ever learn how to do that?” Jamis thought out loud.

“You still have a long way to go before you can even pull this off,” Kylo sniggered.

“Figures.” She said as she rolled her eyes and then made her way ahead.

Before she could even get out Kylo’s sight, she was stopped by a firm “Wait” from Kylo, stopping dead in her tracks, she turned around and saw him walking up to her.

“Earlier, in the room, you suddenly had a burst of strength, what happened back there?”

“Can’t exactly explain it to you—I don’t have the right words for it,” replied Jamis. “It just… got to me and then my instincts told me to let it all out in a way I know how—I didn’t have the time to think it through, I just thought that you beating you with it was the effective way to ‘let it out’.”

Kylo thought for a moment and then realized that this is her episodic jolt of energy wherein she becomes strong just like the first time he fought her—he knew she needed to polish it before it became her undoing and so he was planning out, in his head, on how he is going to refine that trait of hers.

He knew he had to act quickly before she loses her patience for him completely.

 _“She’s almost there,”_ he thought to himself as he strode back to his chamber, _“I don’t understand why she hasn’t realized it yet! My plan cannot backfire if she has come this far.”_

As always, the bedroom in the Finalizer has always been stale for Jamis. Inns in Tatooine were much cozier than steely bedchambers in Star Destroyers. In the back of her mind, she was thinking of sneaking out just to make sure she is not rusty from bounty-hunting, she could not care less if Kylo would send out a search party just to find her, she scoffed at the idea and concluded that he would not come looking for her—whether their training regimen was complete or otherwise.

The last thing he said rang in her mind. What _did_ happen back there?

The burst of energy surely would have a root cause. Was it the rush in her veins? The thrill of actually pinning down Kylo? Perhaps. Probably because Kylo was so difficult to defeat these past few weeks every time they go sparring with one another.

She would be lying to herself if she denied that he was a brilliant fighter—of course he is! After all, what kind of a Sith lord would he be if he were not brilliant? A dead one, certainly.

Recalling how she handled her quarterstaff, she realized that she had indeed become rusty with fighting in melee; in the confines of her bedroom, she grabbed her staff, and practiced a variety of spinning techniques, attacks, and a combination of both, to avoid further distractions she was practicing while facing the window with a view of the cold, black vacuum of space.

The hiss of her bedchamber’s door alerted her. Jamis spun gracefully while keeping her grip on the staff firm, as soon as she turned around to face the general direction of the door, she released the staff and threw it like a javelin. The melee weapon darted through the air, but it was abruptly halted by Kylo—who simply raised his hand, palm open—and the staff was suspended in mid-air, levitating in a lightweight manner as if it was a feather, and now both ends point to both Kylo and Jamis.

“Practicing in private?” Kylo snarked.

“My top preference,” Jamis snarked back.

The sight of the weapon floating in the air impressed Jamis, she never thought Kylo would pull that little trick and she quickly buried the pang of envy in her mind.

“Why have you come here?” asked Jamis.

“I wanted to know…” Kylo said as he stepped inside her chamber, the hem of his cape sweeping the spotlessly smooth floor, “What are you thinking right now?”

The bounty hunter was taken aback by the question. In fact, there were so many things running in her mind right now—sneaking out to finally get a hunt, if she will ever get a hunting contract from Kylo just so she would not feel she is wasting time the longer she stays in the Finalizer, ever finishing the training, if she will ever be able to fight something again outside, and another thing that she feels embarrassed to even ask or talk about.

“I have so many things in my mind right now, Ren,” she walked up to her floating quarterstaff and grabbed it without hesitation (or fear). “In fact, I wanted to ask them all but I figured you had a limit of how many questions you can entertain.”

“That depends.” He simply said.

“All right then,” she struck the floor gently—not so much as a tap—with the bottom end of her quarterstaff, then looked at him in the eye, “Have I gotten any better compared to the first time we fought in that room?”

“Yes. Yes, you have. I just didn’t say anything because… I was afraid appraising you would lead to you becoming complacent.”

“I’m not that type of person, Ren; if anything, I’d be just continuing the training until I actually finish it.” She pointed the other end of her staff at him, with the end just inches away from the front of his mask, “Next question,” she was not sure on how she would construct it without any possible misunderstanding, she walked up to the wall of a window of her bedchamber, placed her staff on what it may be a horizontal rack, and finally belted out her question. “Am I ever going to hunt again? I miss hunting—I don’t belong in some room in a huge command ship, I don’t belong _here_ … I belong out _there_.”

She gestured a nod at the general direction of a planet surrounded by its moons and a vast asteroid field, then her eyes wandered off to the stars—which could possibly be planets or a whole system just a hundred parsecs away.

Kylo walked up to her. His footsteps were so heavy that Jamis could feel them like hooves nearing and closing in on her—he was just inches behind her, she could see his faint reflection in the glass of the window—and simply, he answered, “Soon. Be patient.”

Jamis glanced to the side and noticed a silver dent on the corner of Kylo’s mask, she turned around to face him.

“I guess I’ve hit you too hard you didn’t notice the dent in your mask,”

Kylo—even underneath his mask—did not seem to be alarmed, considering that the mask was part of his identity as a young Sith, but he was hiding a lot of pain in his face from her. She also noticed a maroon streak striped on his neck. Dried blood.

By the sight of it, Jamis went on impulse by playing nurse. She switched on TC-846 from hibernation mode and asked if it knew any medical procedures for combat wounds from a melee attack. The droid delightfully boasted that it was programmed with first-aid in the same level as medical droids, unfortunately, its humble bragging had to be cut short as Jamis fetched a small bowl of water for cleaning the blood off and the wound.

“Take off that mask, I need to check the wound,” Jamis commanded as she was rummaging through her things for any first-aid supplies or at least good alternatives for such, “Good God, Ren, did you come to training with a semi-open wound?”

She insisted again, seeing that Kylo was not acting quickly, to take off his mask so she can take a better look at the wound.

While she was away in readying medical supplies necessary in treating the wound and commanding TC-846 to assist her.

“Since when did you have so much knowledge about medical droids and their abilities?”

“A friend of mine owns a medical droid—her brother tweaked it to have similar traits as that of a protocol droid too—and it came in handy during a skirmish we were caught up in.” Jamis said while she was at the sink. “Have you had that mask off yet?”

At first, he seemed to be withdrawing from doing so. He was so hesitant. Eventually, he worked up the nerve to take it off and he did. He remembered the last time he showed his face to her, he remembered the look in her face—it was not a face of fear, it was a face of curiosity, and—if he would consider his assumption—a face of familiarity, but the latter sounds so absurd.

The depth of his vision blurred and then sharpened after seeing through a dim screen of a mask. Jamis was standing behind him holding a small steel bowl, he saw it from the reflection of the window pane. Quickly he turned around to face her. He looked at her with his own eyes. Her heart sank for an unspeakable reason; perhaps the event of Kylo taking off his mask was not how she expected it to unfold—close but not accurate.

Kylo’s lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth.

Jamis swallowed the lump stuck in her throat that seemed to have hindered her speech.

Both of them were at a loss for words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just did some more grammatical errors here too, I noticed a few jumbled up words and then added some more sentences to add a bit more sense into this chap.


	11. Scars and Ghosts

It appeared that Jamis’s feet was stuck to the floor, she was frozen stiff in where she stood, trying her best to keep her grip firm around the bowl. The sinking feeling in her heart bothered her so much that she does not know what it is about.

It was definitely not the thrill of seeing Kylo unmasked.

It was something else.

Jamis closed her eyes, briefly shook her head, and snapped out of it. TC-846 was standing behind her holding a tray of basic medical tools such as tongs, a roll of gauze, and medical shears. She tried to conceal her true feelings (even though she perfectly knew that she cannot fool Kylo in faking emotions) by trying to be playfully snarky.

“Huh, you’re broken,” she said in a mellow tone.

She walked up in front of Kylo, tilted her head to the side where she has a visual of the reopened wound. She clicked her tongue.

“I hope it’s not that bad. Let’s see what I can do to fix it.” She added.

Jamis gestured Kylo to sit on her bed, she placed the bowl of water on the bedside table (or at least that is how she is using it), sat beside him, and slowly reached for the wound but Kylo turned his head to expose the cheek in front of her. The impact of Jamis’s melee attack with her quarterstaff caused the bacta tape to tear, thus the bleeding; she took the clean cloth that was soaked in the basin and warned Kylo that it might sting.

“The antiseptic solution was mixed in the water,” she reasoned.

“Go ahead,” Kylo rolled his eyes, partially disregarding her warning and just stared blankly at the window.

Jamis softly dabbed the end of the towel on his wound—she tried as soft as she can—he winced and jerked away from her hand. Not a single sound came out of his mouth, not so much as a small yell or a grunt of pain, but only a sharp inhale followed by a deep, relaxed breath.

“Fair warning, I don’t think it’s a good idea to take off the bacta. You need to go to the med bay to get it replaced, I’m just here to patch you up,” said Jamis.

“I’ll go later,”

Jamis carefully cleaned off the blood from his neck and from the wound itself. She put a temporary bandage on Kylo’s face to clog the bleeding. As she was gingerly wiping off the blood from the side of his face, her eyes trailed off and looked at him straight in the eye.

Chills went down her spine, she felt goosebumps underneath her sleeves, all over herself, and for some reason she felt like she was warped right back into a blurry point of her past.

 _Why do I feel like there’s something with him? A connection? No! That’s stupid… so stupid._ Her mind yelled violently that it echoed in the walls of her skull, the voice of her own consciousness somehow nearing to burst into tears.

Her mind repeated the word “stupid” as she tried to find her words.

“This is only temporary, alright? Go get yourself really fixed before you bleed out.”

While she was cleaning up the used gauzes and wipes, Kylo was astounded—surprised, even—when their eyes met, for him, it was as if staring through a void only to find the end of it. Paradoxical, but it happened. He found something that he thought he has forgotten, he never expected to find it in her. A memory. _Memories_ , perhaps. Ones that he thought has dissolved into the far reaches of his mind, lost from remembrance. He never thought that it would Jamis would be the catalyst for those fragments to resurface.

_What did **she** have to do with those memories? Why did it have to be **her**?_

His thoughts just piled up after the other. He dared not to overthink it.

“Right, I…” he stuttered. “I should be going.”

“Kylo,” called Jamis. It was her first time, in weeks, to call him by first name—as she has always called him “Ren”.

The young Sith lord stopped in his tracks, turned around, and waited for Jamis to say something—as if he was anticipating something important.

“Put that mask on again and that gauze would just feel stuffy inside.”

He nodded, acknowledging her advice, and promptly leaves her room.

Jamis thought that it was quite strange of him to stay around and let her clean up his wound when he could just walk out, head for the medical bay to receive a much proper treatment from the medical droids, not just first-aid from a protocol droid and a bounty hunter. She did not take much mind of the thought, but it lingered for quite some time in her head.

Meanwhile, Kylo carried his mask tucked between his side and arm while he made his way to the medical bay. The medical droids were idle and they were active when they saw Kylo walk in. The single round eye of one droid immediately scans and assesses him, it detected that the damaged bacta bandage and concluded that it required immediate replacement. It buzzed and beeped, communicating to the other droids, it hovered towards Kylo who was already sitting down on the gurney.

More droidspeak and they started to work on removing the damaged bacta bandage on Kylo’s face and then replacing it with a cleaner, fresher one.

He sat down, almost not minding the droids doing their work on him, it gave him some kind of allowance to think things through.

_Hey, Ben?_

There it is again. It has been weeks since he last heard that familiar voice.

_We’re friends, right, Ben? And friends stick together._

_Yeah… we are. We’ll always stick together—no matter what._

Little by little, the voice would sound as if it was conversing with him, it used to be just his old name and another word or two; he thought he was going insane until he realized that they were memories crawling out of his mind because he could have sworn he heard his _own_ voice responding to the one speaking to him.

He did not realize that he had fallen into a trance of sort, with his eyes closed as the hypnotic, low, whirring sounds of the droids have almost lulled him to sleep. He did not realize that he was recalling a childhood memory.

Prior to being under Snoke’s employ, the young Padawan who was once Ben Solo was consumed by the Dark Side, it extinguished the thoughts and emotions of Ben, along with it were his most prominent memories, henceforth, the makings of Kylo Ren. But as much as he wanted to deny it, there were just some memories, some people, and some events that were simply too difficult to forget and bury in oblivion.

In the weeks where he was preoccupied in training Jamis, he almost forgot about that voice of someone he knew—someone who belonged in his far past, who has now come to haunt him again.

But now, Kylo did not deny anymore, he knew to whom the voice belonged to. After hearing and thinking about it for so long, he recognized it.

It was no hallucination, no mirage either, certainly not a ghost.

It was his childhood friend.

The only friend he ever had back in Luke Skywalker’s school of Padawans was a girl named Kalia. Her short, dark hair matched her brown eyes that would light up every time she performed well during their combat exercises. Her soft, withdrawn personality greatly resonated with Ben’s shy, quiet, introverted nature; they did almost everything together from studying Jedi texts to conducting their own practice sessions (by always “borrowing” a remote T2 training droid from Luke’s inventory in the learning hall). Kalia excelled mostly in being the strategist type while Ben excelled in combat and Force-wielding; their contrasting talents were the base of their friendship.

They had their own little world.

Like any other school, children would always tease other children—even to a point where it is deliberately a case of bullying—and Ben was a frequent target. He was teased for many things: they made fun of how “gigantic” he was because he was the tallest child amongst the other Padawans—there even came a time where one of the children, a Zabrak, called him a Rancor due to his height, and the young Ben was humiliated—other than his height, he was often teased by his appearance, his facial features, and even his personal interests. Luke always consoled his nephew that they do it out of jealousy because he was a brilliant pupil.

Out of the many Padawans who often teased, avoided, or ignored him, Kalia did none of the sort—she never ridiculed him. He never felt alone when she was around. He loved her company, her kindness was the only kindness he felt apart from his family, and he treasured her so much.

Aside from her talents inside the classroom, Kalia was an intuitive girl, also kind and compassionate; for some reason, she would ask Ben or make him promise things that—for him—seem absurd, unlikely for him to do, or to happen. At one point, while in the garden yard of the academy, the two children watch a meteor shower since they could not sleep.

‘Hey, Ben?’

‘Yeah?’

‘You won’t forget me, right?’

‘Of course not. Why would I?’

‘Nothing. Just a weird thought that came up.’

‘Well, whatever thought that was, I’m sure I’d never forget you.’

‘Hmm, I hope so.’

But that one fateful night changed everything.

That night where he saw how his own blood committing an attempt on his life with his own eyes.

The love he had for his family and Kalia vanished, his memories were blackened, and his identity was changed. He was a new man—and not a good one, either.

He had already let the dark take him.

So many young Padawans were slaughtered, no one managed to escape the wrath of the Knights of Ren, and the academy burned along with the entirety of Ben’s past. When already brought under Snoke’s wing, one of the early steps in joining the Dark Side was to cast off all the remnants of the person he used to be, including his fondest memories of Kalia.

There was no turning back. The boy had nowhere else to go.

To Kylo, it almost felt like Snoke’s first instruction, which was to let himself into the Dark Side to repress his memories of the past, was to murder Ben—not as an identity but as a person. It meant long hours caged inside his chamber on his own whim, trying to erase what needed to be gone, pained sessions of meditation until he felt that his past was nothing but a white slate until those days of self-inflicted imprisonment paid off as it pleased to the Supreme Leader’s wishes.

Meanwhile, in the confinements of his bedchambers, sitting on his bed, he tried to calm down his mind with deep, patterned breaths; when the storm in his heart dissolved, his grip loosened, and he mustered up the nerve to finally release the words he subconsciously wanted to say all this time.

“Kalia…” he said under his breath, in the hopes the ghost of her would hear, perhaps through the Force, “I miss you… I miss you so much.”

And a tear rolled down his cheek.

In shame, not of crying, but of being unable to keep his promise to her, he wrapped his face with his gloved hands, staining the leather with tears until it pooled and overflowed to his wrists and arms.

He had been suppressing this feeling for too long that it welled up within him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, THIS chapter had the most change in them compared to Chapters 3 and 10 because I noticed some events that caused redundancy from the previous chapters and revised it a bit to omit the repetition of events or dialog. Just wanted to make sure. It may not be noticeable but it sure is for me. Sorry, it's my OCD kicking in.


	12. Formidable

Jamis managed to find the training area of the Star Destroyer that was similar to the room where she and Kylo train, but it was designed with a perimeter similar to a fighting arena and operated by a control panel at the foot of it. The arena was purposed for Stormtroopers wielding melee weapons such as riot control batons and for selected crew members to engage in close combat (should there be a need), and she thought it was a good idea to occupy it for self-training, after all those tiresome weeks of training with Kylo—who nearly beat her to a pulp. It was practically empty when she got inside. She took the liberty of checking through the control panels, there was an abundance of exercises (but it pales in comparison to the training area of the late Starkiller Base) from target practice to combat simulations ranging from different levels to variation of skills. She unclipped her lightsabers from her belt and prepared herself as the dummies signaled their appearance by the low humming of the floor. Three of them emerged.

These were no ordinary training dummies. They were actually droids modeled and programmed to mimic actual battle stances, attack styles, defensive and evasive maneuvers—these things had impressive battle coordination. They moved fluidly, almost human-like, and their movements were swift. This first wave wielded two-handed blasters, Jamis knew that deflecting the projectiles will not do any good if she chooses to do this forever, and so with every deflect she did, she took a step forward to the nearest dummy—that is, the one in her right-hand side. She swung her right-handed lightsaber overhead—deflecting the other blasts—and slicing her target in half. As she backed away to regain momentum and readjust her stance, her other hand—the red lightsaber on the left hand—spun to deflect while she flicked her wrist to reset her grip on the blue one. However, one of the droids fired and the shot darted through the lightsaber and hit her on the arm.

“Agh, son of a bitch!” she exclaimed.

She looked at her arm, it was no more than a burnt graze—like you would when you accidentally stick your skin to a boiling hot surface—and realized that their blasts were not fatal (as it was only a training simulation), but she also understood that a non-lethal blaster does not mean she can slack off. She took the training seriously. When she finally recomposed herself with her stance and weapons, she spun her blue lightsaber to deflect incoming fire but the droids understood that they were in too close to trigger and they bounced back for better distance.

Jamis smirked and smugly commented, “Wow, these bastards _are_ smart.”

More projectiles escaped the barrel of a blaster, only to be bounced back by the lightsaber’s blade, and as Jamis got closer, she pitted her red lightsaber into the left droid’s chest and then plunged the blue saber into the same spot, the droid limped and then she kicked it off until her sabers were free to find their way into their next target. The blue sliced off the surviving droid’s arms and finished it off with a stylish spin move severing the head.

The last droid hummed and malfunctioned, sparks popped out of its joints, and Jamis stepped down from the arena.

“Level one combat simulation completed.” A computer voice rang.

Jamis loosened up, stepped down the arena to take a breather, and then reviewed her attack pattern from the first level. She remembered that she learned so much from her companions—the misfits and troublemakers she would bump into in any city she stays in—and during her free time, she would combine them in patterns and use them with different weapons, creating a versatile fighting technique. She applied them in the next set of levels she has configured in the computer. Jamis made certain that she has used the different patterns she had practiced, perfected, and mastered. She definitely has taken her sweet time in the training room—somehow, she felt like she was at peace, at full focus with herself and with her enemies, she does not feel any sort of pressure or the need to win a word of affirmation or a stamp of approval. In this miniature fighting ring, her overall skills as a fighter are heightened, and become more at par with every passing level.

Jamis is an entirely different woman from the one by Kylo’s side.

When she was ready to take on the next level, she stood up after her breather, configured the control panel before stepping back into the arena.

“Preparing level seventeen combat simulation.” The stale computer voice said.

“Seventeen, huh?” she muttered to herself. “It took seventeen levels for me to try out everything I knew before even coming here?”

The arena has not prepared itself yet for her. Jamis attempted to calm herself before the incoming match.

She stood in the middle of the floor, awaiting where her opponents would show up next, and then thin circular outlines cut through the floor which startled her, presenting an array of weapons at Jamis’s disposal—the display should be half of her own arsenal—and then the opponents appeared next. Nearest to her right-hand side is a long staff—similar to what Kylo used against her quarterstaff—which she quickly snatched before any of the droids close in on her. With gusto, she wielded the staff quite well, but she was immediately disarmed by a droid with a much thicker and longer staff—added with a shock-generated head on both ends (with a lower shock setting compared to an actual one); realizing that she is at a distance away from the row of arsenal, she improvised by countering droids at close combat, daringly grabbing the staffs and barrels of rifles at a closer range and then prompting for a punch or a kick.

She eluded them with finesse and when she had enough space—for very little time—she extended her arm with the palm wide open and reached for the pistol-type blaster sitting on its mount across the arena. The moment the grip is in her grasp, she squeezed the trigger, and—with precision—gunned down the droids eerily cornering her.

Jamis was too focused with her own training session that she does not notice someone watching over her, who—dare he say it—is greatly impressed with the performance she is unknowingly showing. Armitage, who was walking down the hallway until he heard Jamis curse with pain, his attention was shifted and then he saw this scrawny excuse of a woman turn out to be someone you do not want to be cross with. The general has watched her through four levels, from her seventh onwards, and with each droid she destroys, his impression on her changes even though he ought to be a strong believer of having only one chance with a first impression. Greedily, he thought of her as a collateral for their plans to weed out the Rebellion and then it changed to the idea of her being a weapon at their own disposal—given the right regimen and training discipline, granting her immunity from the hierarchy of leadership present in the Star Destroyer and even residency in their bases: it is an offer of a luxurious life.

“What are thinking now?” without even realizing, Kylo has walked up on Hux watching Jamis in the arena as if it were a gambled dogfight.

“Hmph, I have misread her,” not swallowing his pride, Hux replied.

“Misread her how?”

“Look at her, Ren,” Hux subtly gestured a nod at the window, inviting Kylo to come see what he thinks is their newest weapon. “Isn’t she magnificent?”

Of course, Hux meant differently, Kylo understood what he intended but the young Sith was just not in the same perspective as the general—who suddenly has a whiff of glory from the birth of a premature concept. Kylo watched her, he saw that her patterns, her attacks, her maneuvers, and styles were different from the one she has presented to him in their weeks of practice. He then thought if his teachings were inadequate that led Jamis to seek more on her own. He paid no mind on his own assumption, he continued to watch her alongside Hux.

“What do you think?” Hux said, still in his state of euphoria in finally, possibly, finding a prospect to get themselves closer to their goal.

“What do I think? What are you talking about?”

“Has that brain shrunk for spending too much time with that bounty hunter or are you just fooling around? This girl could be our next step in finding the Rebellion and that Jedi you are after so much,”

Then an idea from a word he has uttered had sprung out from his skull, Hux knew that Kylo was still seeking someone else, he smirked with a full smug vibe painted on his face.

“Who knows, maybe she might even find the _girl_.” Hux added.

Kylo knows perfectly well who Hux is referring to. Without a doubt. Now his mind is rattled.

Must he always pick a side?

Kylo shook his head, “I am not following you in whatever idea that’s concocting in your head. Get over it.”

Hux’s eyes flared in bewilderment, his fists clenched, his jaw tightened, but he did not turn to Kylo to show him his disappointment in him.

“And _you_ should get over _her_ before it even becomes your undoing.”

Right after finishing the seventeenth level, Jamis felt the tension through the glass—which she noticed just now—and saw Kylo and Hux seemingly arguing. She saw the contrasting expressions between the general and the young lord. As for Armitage, much to his chagrin, walked out of a scene but his eyes stole a glance of hers, although she initially looked at Kylo’s first before turning to him. Hux noticed the faint yet noticeable change of emotion in her eyes: to Kylo, she showed concerned and curiosity, while there was a pang of spite in her earthy irises that somehow matched the usual look in Armitage’s stern eyes. He knew he lost against both of them, preserving the remnants of his pride by backing out to this fight.

Kylo gazes back at her but she only looked back for a brief moment, suddenly overcome by shame, she ceased her training and the entire arena went dimmer. She collected her things and put on her jacket before leaving the training room.

“That looked important,” she commented flakily.

“Not in the way I see it.”

“Right. I’ll see you then,”

Jamis quietly strode back to her chambers, only acknowledging Kylo with a slight nod before walking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, my former professor hooked me up with this cool scriptwriting workshop sponsored by a local film company so I got busy in preparing for the requirements -- which was a whole one-pager storyline and its scene sequence counting as a portfolio plus a resume. I just finished consultation with my professor and just awaiting his new comments in the Google Docs hehe. Wish me luck! ^w^


	13. Worth

Everyday always seem to be the same.

It is indeed never-ending.

Whatever she does, she always ends up in the same place.

She is not used to closed spaces, more so, she is not used to the _same_ closed spaces.

But it appears that there is no other place for her to go; if she leaves, the inadequacy to become better will haunt her and she will always crave for it until she finds an outlet to achieve her own personal gain.

Completely ignoring the servitude of TC-846 who kindly sets down a tray of food and drink next to Jamis, sitting down staring at the wide window-wall peering through outer space.

“Lady Jamis, if you are feeling uncomfortable with the current temperature, I can always adjust it for you.” TC offered.

Jamis shook her head, “No, thank you, TC. You’ve been doing so much all day, why don’t you go sit and shut down for a while? Serving me must be rusting your joints.”

The droid puts down a folded sheet closely to where Jamis is sitting.

“Nonsense, Lady Jamis, my scanner shows that I am in optimum condition to serve you. I am not, what you say, rusting my joints. I don’t feel any rust in my joints as a matter of fact.”

The droid’s naivety amuses Jamis, it feels like it is the only thing close to human feeling—ironically. Seeing that she lost in polite debate with her own droid, she took the cup filled with tea with an aroma familiar to her: it was a medley of fresh fruits’ extracts blended into a rich tea. Something that she has tasted in one of her adventures in the Inner Rim planets.

“Huh, drink of the royals,” she mumbled under her breath, stole a glance at TC-846 busying itself with tidying up her things, “Not bad, TC.”

She wraps herself with the blanket that the droid had put away, it kept her warm as the chill began to bite into her skin—she was not essentially used to the cold because she tends to stay in planets with warmer or temperate climates. In the corner of her eye, the sight of a planet within the Finalizer’s orbit bedazzled her like a child; it was surrounded by a large mass of a water and a decent continent of terrain facing the direction of the window. The planet was unfamiliar to her but she was mesmerized by its five moons—differentiating by size, color, and texture—orbiting around it.

Across the room, the whirring sound of her door interrupts her brief moment of curiosity as Kylo steps in but stands where he is, and saw her looking at the gargantuan planet instead of acknowledging or welcoming him to her bedroom.

“That is the planet Vedroya and its five moons: Acox, Crov, and the three moons that can support habitation—Triea I, II, and III.”

“I see you’ve done your homework,”

“You’ve never been to this part of the galaxy?”

She smirked and slightly did a half-turn to face him, “Kid, I’ve been hopping across the galaxy but I can’t say I’ve seen _every_ planet.”

“Sounded like my father,” he said it so faintly that it is mistaken for a whisper.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

With Kylo in her bedroom, Jamis has the chance of asking him what he intends to do with her and for how long he intends to keep her in the ship.

“I’ve been holed up here far too long,” Jamis commented, intentionally making it loud enough within Kylo’s earshot.

“I see that your impatience has been growing,”

“Bounty hunters are not meant to be kept inside some ship for weeks on end like a bird.”

Kylo strode across the room, deliberately ignored TC-846’s greeting, and stood right beside Jamis’s side.

“I intend to keep you here for a reason,” he huskily whispered to her as he stared into her reflection’s eyes. “You may not understand it now, but eventually, you will. You might be surprised to see how much power you hold at your disposal if you took the chance to better it.”

Jamis stared back through the reflection, questioning—in her conscience—if Kylo really meant it, and then more questions piled up in her head, one after the other, with answers branching out to another question; but the only one that reigns on the top of her mind is what is his reason to keep her? Other than training her to refine her style, what else does he want with her?

“How would you know?”

“Because I’ve seen it and I’ve felt it—from the way you fight, from the way you wield the Force and how it connects with you. It’s unusual.”

Jamis squinted her eyes, not fully convinced of what Kylo is saying, although she understands where he is coming from, it never came to her mind that she would be considered to that extent due to her abilities—come to think of it, she was never acknowledged for her connection with the Force as many bounty hunters are not sensitive with it, rather she was known for her fighting skills and hunting methods. She rarely discloses her Force-sensitivity with anybody, even from the people she considers her friends—although bounty hunters do not take kindly on such relationships due to the occupational hazard that comes with being one.

“I thought… everyone was Force-sensitive, or I could be wrong.”

“Not everyone. Some, nary a handful.”

“I see. That’s one thing you didn’t really lecture me about.”

Kylo’s brows furrowed together, he looks at her—not through the reflection, but literally at her—and he just waited for her to turn back to him. He was wondering why she shifted the conversation to that.

“Why the sudden interest?”

“No reason. Except for the fact that I was always taught with the mindset that everyone had the Force in them.”

“Who told you?”

She shrugged her shoulders casually, “Oh you know, the old coots and loons sitting around towns, the people who lived through the war about twenty years ago. They were stories—ones that they would burst out to the table if they get the chance, they would do that when they would sit with us in a cantina over a drink—they tell some odd ones that I can’t think to be true, but they do sound interesting—for a bedtime story.”

“I see,”

The unexplainable tension that Kylo felt in him when Jamis brought up the topic of the Force being present in living beings

“I’m not overstaying my welcome here, aren’t I?”

He shook his head. His lips parted, preparing to say something but the sentence slipped his mind, he withdrew and Jamis noticed but she chose not to point it out to him. They did not spoke further and Kylo prepared himself to the door. He slowly turned around and stepped away from Jamis. Before he could leave the bedchambers, Jamis slightly turned around so she could face him, spoke and stopped him in his tracks.

“I’ll be done with the training soon, right?” she softly asks, seeking reassurance from Kylo.

He took a deep breath, “Yes, you are coming to a close with your training.”

He heads out to the door, the door whirred opened and he left the room. Jamis is left again staring into the black sky illuminated by stars and planets. She finally has some time and privacy to reflect. She thinks ahead of the life waiting for her outside the Star Destroyer, she wondered if her time in the ship is all worth it and she owes it to Kylo.

“What is wrong with me?” Jamis hissed to herself, sighing in defeat.

“She doesn’t even realize it,” Kylo muttered to himself, marching away and heading to his own bedchambers.

Isolated in his own chamber, nobody can disturb him, he sits alone and contemplates on the memory of Kalia again. Ever since the memory of her resurfaced, he has been remembering her more and more; the images have become more vivid and his memories of her playing in his mind have become as lucid as he sees Jamis standing in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added an itsy bitsy scene at the end of this chapter just for emotional factor.


	14. Into Submission

The low rumbling of the Finalizer slowly crawling through space and passing by planets and systems have lulled Jamis to sleep, as well as the tea aiding her slumber. If one thing, she has grown fond of how soft the bed is despite being surrounded by greys, silvers, blacks, and dots of red, yellow, green, and orange in the ship; eventually, they would look like floating spheres of light in her puffy, sleepy vision and they would help her in falling asleep. They remind her of the evening lights of glamorous cities like Canto Bight, Coruscant, and Naboo. But she admits to herself that she has never stayed in an inn that comes close to a bed this soft.

“Man, I bet not even Bight’s lounge homes could top this!” she squeals in delight, snuggling into the sheets and letting herself sink into the mattress’s softness.

For the rest of the day, she would always recall her conversation with Kylo and the way he would look at her. She remembers the way his piercing brown eyes would stare back at hers, whenever the image of it comes back to her, chills run down her spine and goosebumps spread on her skin quicker than lightning.

“Not bad a proposition, Kylo,” she mumbled under her breath, of course, addressing the comment to Kylo.

In the middle of the night, she would find herself panting while drenched in cold sweat, occasionally waking up TC-846 from its sleep mode and it would constantly ask Jamis if she is all right or requires medical assistance due to sleeping problems. Of course, Jamis would dismiss it as she cannot be bothered and resolves it by sleeping again.

The next morning, Kylo thought of doing something new for Jamis’s training regimen. He instructed her to meet her at the arena where he will be waiting for her inside. To her curiosity, she followed his instructions, she did go to the arena and spotted him there—patiently sitting in the middle of the arena, with his eyes closed, perhaps meditating while expecting her. Jamis enters the arena in full practice garb—she usually wears something light such as a black tank top, slightly loose cargo pants, and boots, optionally she wears gloves and this time she did wear her fingerless ones.

“So, what’s this big new thing that you got going here, Ren?”

“Just wanted to test the waters on this one.”

“Oh?” she smirked, “Well, let’s see how this little experiment fares then,”

“Don’t take this lightly with your smug, pretty face, Jamis,”

Kylo summoned the droids earlier than they were programmed to the moment the settings on the control panel has been confirmed by the trainee; and while the lifeless droids still hang on the hooks of their posts, Kylo unclips and sheds his cape then tossed it out of the arena, he does this with a full straight face.

“You seem to be used to assassinations,” said Kylo.

The arena’s AI system unhooks the droids from the posts, they are now standing stiffly, flat on their feet. Jamis’s smirk slowly melts.

“Face-to-face combat with your targets,” he added. “Usually, one to three at a time.”

Jamis remained silent, the smirk in her face completely dissolved, the arena’s AI has awakened the droids from their shutdown state. Their heads perked up, their muzzles pointing in their own forward direction.

“But I wonder if you have ever faced a company,” he continued.

The droids prepared themselves in battle stance, half of the droids in the arena comprised of melee fighter whilst the other half comprised of gunners, with Kylo Ren standing in the middle. Slowly, Jamis arched her back like a cat, her facial expression morphing from a smirk to furrowed brows, and then she reached for her sabers.

“With a lightsaber-wielder who’s in command of them?”

Suddenly, all the droids looked at Jamis with their weapons at the ready—the droids with blasters steadied their aim at her, the melee droids spun their staffs as to intimidate her.

The smirk found its return on her face, this time, more confident and enthralled.

She ignited both of her lightsabers, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Kylo already had a pattern in mind even before releasing the droids, he divided them in waves but he was always in the vanguard of the fight, making him stand out and become the main target for Jamis in a cluster of silver and grey droids. Jamis cut her way through the droids and would occasionally get a chance to strike at Kylo which she personally thought always made her training sessions interesting. He did not know that today would be the day that she would conjoin her lightsabers and use them in battle. Her varying spinning styles and patterns allured him greatly, the humming and the illumination of the lightsabers were almost hypnotic altogether.

To her advantage, her conjoined lightsabers would double the number of droids that she can bring down in a single swing or two. Fortunately, her amazing dexterity was one of her strengths, it may seem tedious to a stranger or a person not familiar with the style but she made it look so easy, she can determine the timing when it is the best time to detach the lightsabers and bring damage instantaneously and when to connect back again. With wise calculations, she does not do this all the time to peacock her skills all throughout the fight, she does this for the sake of cutting down numbers in a battlefield. Even before, she applied this fighting method with her fighting staff, it took her years to practice and then master it both on her electrostaff and lightsabers.

Jamis managed to cut through the numbers and reach Kylo, who would counter her attacks despite her impressive weapon.

“Impressive,” said Kylo, then he smirked.

She returned the smirk with a slight shrug, “Thanks, I’ve been practicing.”

She would last in a collision of lightsabers with Kylo and then pull back to tear down more of the droids. The cycle repeats until Kylo ran out of waves of droids to send out on her, and so he is left yet again with this bounty hunter.

He actually almost felt proud of her. After braving so many weeks in training—both alone and with him—Jamis actually became better. He saw it in the way she moves, the way she fights, and the way she balances the usage of her abilities without compromising anything, and the show of struggles does not etch her face anymore. All he sees is grace, poise, the fluidity of her motion like the current of the water, and beautiful destruction.

He cannot really confirm it to himself, but he could have sworn he saw her face having a radiant glow.

He did not realize it but Jamis already has him at the tip of her red lightsaber. His lips curled upwards, showing his approval and good impression on her improvement. Her eyes are twinkling in front of him. He saw the red illumination in her eyes, though he did not see the aggression that would supposedly be there, he only saw eagerness; in the blink of an eye, the sight of Jamis changed into Kalia, although Kalia’s smile was more innocent than Jamis’s coy smile, Kylo being taken aback did not go as obvious as a jolt but it was noticeable as his smile melted and his heart somehow sank. Behind her, there littered the dismembered limbs of the felled droids.

“I’m waiting,” said Jamis.

Kylo managed a small smile— _a smile nonetheless_ —then gently pushed aside her saber with his, after that, he prepared himself to a good fighting stance for good measure.

“Don’t go easy on me.” She added.

The exchange of strikes and slashes began. Sparks flew, sudden flashes of red and blue light blended with the crisp white light of the arena, violent hissing and buzzing rang across the walls.

And then the unthinkable happened.

Jamis managed to disarm Kylo. She has his lightsaber in her hand while her conjoined lightsaber rests in the grasp of the other. Her patterns have helped her along the way, they were most reliable when deflecting and blocking Kylo’s attacks, although it would require her to pull or step back a bit for a better lunging attack at him. Due to the barrage of attacks, Kylo was overwhelmed—to the point that his grip on his saber loosened than usual. Jamis took advantage of her hand-to-hand combat to send punches to Kylo on the abdomen, causing him to really let go of his saber, let it be flung into the air for Jamis to do the taking.

On his knees, the tip of his jagged, unconventional saber is now against him as Jamis has it raised and held in her right hand while the left holds her own lightsaber with the blue blade pointing outward to Kylo.

It felt time stopped again, like it occasionally does to him that he does not even realize it. Standing and towering before him was Jamis, assertive of her dominance against him as she brandishes two sabers and have them pointed at him; he looked deep into her eyes, seeing through her, he wondered if he will find the answer to his question today. The question that he had always harbored in his mind since the day Jamis came walking in this very ship.

_Am I ready to tell her that I have done my end of the bargain?_

_Then why do I feel like I can’t? Why can’t I?_

He assessed his situation and it is pointless to fight back, even if he did wield the Force against her—or even choke her—it would still be pointless. In the spirit of sportsmanship, he yields.

Jamis switches off both lightsabers, she returns his, and helps him up.

“Take note that not every enemy you disarm will always be generous to yield for you.”

“I know that, happened to me twice already,” Jamis said casually while heading to the control panel down the arena.

“Jamis,” Kylo calls her before she could step down the arena.

“Yeah?”

His eyes dropped, he sighed, and took a good long look at her, “You did very well today.”

Her face mellowed and managed a smile, not a snarky one but a real genuine smile, “Thanks.”

Jamis deactivates the battle mode in the arena, two metal claws each with a single eye attached to a lid-like head descended from the ceiling and collected the disembodied droids from the floor for clean-up. Kylo stepped out of the arena and rejoined Jamis on the main foyer.

“I got to be honest with you, there was a rush of aggression in me when that happened,” spoke Jamis.

“When?”

“When we were fighting—when there was nothing else to fight but you,”

He did not react or comment back, he just looked and listened to her.

“But it’s strange,” she added. “That rush of aggression, suddenly changed into something else, it was… it felt lighter and less violent, it’s as if I got everything under control. It was definitely different than last time or any other time. Do you get what I mean?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Oh good, I guess I wasn’t really nuts,” she chuckled. “Is that a good thing for my training?”

He nodded.

“Yes, it is.” He added.

She smiled and nodded in relief. She sat down on the floor, leaned against the wall of the arena, and finally found a moment to unwind. Kylo sat down next to her, relieved himself from his gloves and lightsaber. They share the silence of the room, it felt comforting for both of them. After all, when was the last time did they experience such calm quietness?

Jamis chuckled, her shoulders rose when she did, and she smiled. Kylo noticed but he did not speak.

“I guess you’re good at keeping promises,” she said.

Kylo’s eyes widened, his nostrils flared, he swallowed a lump in his throat, suddenly the memory of Kalia making him promise that he will not forget her rushed into his mind—it felt like he was splashed with ice-cold water—and his heart raced wildly. He turned his head to her with an alarmed look in his face.

She noticed this from her periphery and she looked at him, clueless of what she said meant to him.

“Was it something that I said?”

“No, it’s just… I never thought of myself as a good keeper of promises.”

“Well, you _are_ keeping your end of the bargain—isn’t that like keeping a promise already?”

“Yeah, I…” he turned away, staring at the floor before he could even finish. “I suppose so.”

A fringe of black hair obscured Kylo’s face from Jamis’s vision, slowly, she reached out to brush away the lock of hair covering his eyes from her; as soon as her bare fingertips softly touched the skin of his temple—out of impulse—he reached for it and held her hand, caging it gingerly within his own fingers.

Kylo looked at her again, they exchanged mellow glances, and Jamis’s heart pounded as the hairs on her nape stood up. Whatever it is, it is far from the feelings she has felt the last time she looked at Kylo straight in the eye—she felt comfort with just the touch of his hand.

A surprised look in Kylo’s eyes can be seen, as clear as day, it is as though he has been struck by lightning and realized something thereafter. From Jamis’s touch, he felt sheltered and well-guarded with the warmth flowing out of her and that warmth has found its way into his system; but he was confused, he somehow sensed something blocking him from Jamis—even though they are basically skin-to-skin—it was like glass or thin ice separating them but then Kylo thought of it again… alas, no, to put it simply at best, it is like a very fine mesh with little holes as small as the human pupil exposed to light. He can see and feel Jamis _but_ the mesh shrouds her, revealing nothing more but a silhouette of her.

Even in, possibly, their most intimate moment, something in Jamis is hindering her from fully permitting Kylo entry into her mind and—if possible—soul. He cannot place his finger what could be that thing that is blocking his way in her mentally. Whatever it is, it surely has blurred his sights on Jamis’s true thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the readers who have read this fic since Chapter 1: I have tweaked Chapters 3, 10, 11, and 13 due to grammatical errors I've spotted, revised some paragraphs (and essentially a portion of its plot) to avoid the redundancy in following chapters, added a few more scenes here and there, and that's it. I felt the need to do so, on my part as author. I figured you guys should know.


	15. Hidden and Concealed

Ever since they met, Kylo has been wondering how could a bounty hunter as mere as Jamis could be able to wield such a power as blocking another Force-sensitive individual’s ability to penetrate or read minds. Too prideful to even ask—rather, too shy to even bring it up casually—but too curious and eager to stop.

In the crevices of his mind, he has always wanted to think this out loud and finally he is about to.

“ _What_ is she hiding in that mind?”

Kylo watched her as he wondered about what happened to them back in the training room, he wanted to know what he saw could have meant. Did she manipulate everything? Not so likely, for someone who is not trained neither from the Jedi Arts nor the Sith and only know so little in the beginning, it would seem that it is a bit of a stretch to assume that she did everything by herself using the Force.

Was it an intervention of the Force? Possibly, but he wanted to think of it without sounding like a devotee. Being honest with himself, Kylo did not know what to make of it—he did not know whether it was a sign or something that the Force wanted him to interpret for himself; after all, the Force only guides a person to the answer but does not tell it straight.

Whatever the answer is—he cannot find it yet.

He decided to retire to his bedroom.

The door whirred open, as soon as he stepped in, he shed off his gloves, and then his shirt, he suddenyly winced, clutching his side gently and slowly rubbing it. He had been disobeying the medical droids again. They told him that he would only avoid the abdominal pains caused by the physical stress inflicted on the wound itself if he would just stop doing training.

Kylo slowly pulled away his hand from his abdomen, at the slightest rub between his two fingers he felt a moist, warm, and thick liquid on its tips, he was hesitant to look at it but he could not help it—blood.

He sighed, in defeat, he put on his robes again. He marched through the corridor, on his way to the clinic again; there was no disgruntled doctor seeing Kylo the third or so time this week, he was greeted only by a droid who buzzed and beeped droidspeak as it hovered around the medical clinic. Its eye bobbed up and down, looking at Kylo from head to toe, and then found the tearing on his wound—his strenuous movements have torn the soft, fragile tissues that were supposed to be sealing the injury. He sat down on the gurney, the main medical droid called for two assistants—two smaller versions of itself—and started the procedure of replacing the bandage.

It is trips like these that he has a time of thinking—because the droids do not speak much, let alone interact with him like an actual human doctor—and his mind wandered off to the thought of Jamis again.

Another thing that Kylo had his mind on was the way Jamis did not feel any sort of intimidation or threat from him—let alone, she did not feel scared like she used to (even though she was good at hiding it and keeping herself calm) and the way she looked at him earlier showed a whole new different emotion. Tenderness and warmth flowed out of her and then trickled into him, as if trying to comfort him when she sensed his apparent sadness.

“All too familiar…” he muttered to himself, the droids did not hear it despite being within earshot. Then, like a single drop of paint falling on a canvas of black and spread, rippled, and swirled across its slate, the familiarity of the feeling tendered his stone-cold, darkened heart.

His heart sank, he felt it weighing down on him, and then the tenderness has softened and overwhelmed him at the same time, but he put his focus back to where it should belong—Jamis’s performance in the training earlier. He remembered that he had his end of the bargain to fulfill. It meant that he had to let her leave or he will forge a contract with her—serving the First Order or personally Kylo’s requests while still being able to accept outside contracts as a bounty hunter.

Kylo may deny all he wants but a part of him does not want to let her get too far from his sights. He does not want to admit that, to some extent, Armitage had a point and he was right about it.

The medical droids have finished without him even noticing, he prepared himself to head to Jamis’s bedchambers and tell her of her training’s completion. As he strode through the metal walls, that seemed to hum as he walked, he felt his hands become clammy, he even felt the slightest tremble of his fingers, as well as the sudden dryness of his throat.

All feelings piled up, one on top of the other, and everything he was feeling was occurring all at once when he was standing in front of Jamis’s door. He took slow, deep breaths before pressing the button until he was calm enough to face her.

The door opened and showed Jamis staring again at the giant window overlooking space, leaning her head against the glass, shoulders slumped but relaxed, and hands held together.

_Is she meditating again?_

He figured that he should not be interrupting her if that is the case, he was reluctant to leave but he felt that he had to do so out of courtesy, he was about to turn around until Jamis called out his name.

“Stop…” she firmly but gently said. “What did you see?”

He did not speak right away.

“Earlier, I know you saw something inside me—it’s written all over your face: you look so surprised.”

Kylo’s lips felt dry, he swallowed a lump stuck on his throat, and attempted to answer her without compromising the truth of what he really appeared before his eyes.

“To be frank, it was difficult to comprehend, but to put it simply: it was a silhouette of you. We’re connected, but not really. Do you understand?”

Jamis did not turn away, though he saw her reflection, he noticed that her eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement, he was right—he _did_ disclaim that it was difficult to comprehend—and Jamis herself was picturing what Kylo said.

“So, we can see each other but we’re separated by something?”

“Yes, if you would put it that way.”

“What else?” she asked.

“Nothing more to tell.” He simply said.

There was a short silence between them, that was the invisible wall standing between them—the one that is keeping Kylo from approaching her—but he sees himself reaching out for her. In him, there was a feeling of longing for warmth—her own brand of warmth and her own kind of comfort—as he misses the sensation after making himself isolated from such feelings, proving that he has not numbed from his own training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been in a major slump for almost a quarter of the month due to things piling onto the other, hence, the little hiatus. I also got a bit off-focus, I didn’t want to write with a muddled mind. We’re just trying to get our life back to normal after a fucking storm and flood that devoured most of our stuff—well, a fair, chunky share of my stuff and then there’s my sister’s laptop. That fucking laptop which was previously mine before I got a new one for graduation from college. If any of you have ever heard the phrase “If it weren’t for you, [insert the thing/person/event that should or should not have happened]!” and constantly hate hearing it because they put all the blame to poor, defenseless, faultless you when it should have been the inevitable, external force by the earth and climate change ravaging our home… yeah, I hate that too.


	16. The Proposition

The ship was looming over the orbit of Lothal, Jamis recognized the planet as soon as she saw it by her window, then she retreated to a warm bath to calm her nerves. It has been three days since Kylo told her of what he saw when their hands connected, in over a bit of time she also formed the habit of fidgeting her fingers—as if to stretch them out to reduce the stress and the nervousness within—and looking at them, thinking about what he could possibly have seen and what he is avoiding to tell her.

She only told him that he was doing a good job in keeping his promise, his end of the bargain, they are beginning to tie the loose ends on both sides.

_‘Is it really easier for you to put a catch in every deal you make with me than just asking me to keep on working for you?’_

That statement rang in her mind, something that she—with her classic combination of smug and snark that is hard to miss—once said to a smuggler boss, a couple of years back.

Staring up at the ceiling, she let her thoughts run loose, daydreaming of the day she will fly away in the Stellar Wind out of the hangar and into another planet, almost immediately bumping into a gang leader who wants someone dead; the thought that had been dangling in her mind is the possible catch in Kylo’s deal—surely, he cannot just let her go because she had completed her training under his supervision, she had dealt with numerous crooks and gangsters, she knew them well enough to know their patterns of trickery and deception when it comes to advertising their propositions.

Jamis was sure of her assumption because she can feel it from Kylo, there is something that he wants to say but is reluctant, it is as if he is avoiding something the moment he opens his mouth, a slight alteration of their deal is not a stretch and she has a way of making both ends meet—one way or another.

“Wait, that’s a bad idea,” she told herself, widening her eyes at the mental reminder that she is facing a Sith Lord—someone whom one does not simply take lightly.

She took her time in washing herself, savoring every drop and ripple hugging each inch of her body, the water’s embrace relaxed her so much that she almost fell asleep in the tub.

Meanwhile, in the conference room, Kylo pressed the button of a beacon and its light began to blink, the few lieutenants and commanders personally summoned by Kylo shift in their seats much to their awkward discomfort and fear of Kylo’s unpredictable wrath episodes; Kylo put the remote away in his pocket just before Hux marches in the room.

“May we begin our report?” Hux began, quite excited and confident.

A captain of the scouting fleet swallowed the nervous lump dangling in his throat and spoke, “My fleet was able to detect the Rebels within their radar, they are not far.”

“Where are they?”

“They are still in the planet of D’Qar,”

“But our communications intelligence reported that they have been sending transmissions to their other allies across the galaxy, they are hopeless,” the commander of the communications intelligence added.

“Any updates? Recent activities other than sending distress signals?”

“No, there aren’t anything… new to report. Although our intelligence did deduce that they have been sending distress signals hoping for aid, they’re hopeless—nobody’s going to help them right away.”

“Are you sure about that, General?”

All heads turn to the door, Jamis let herself in the conference room. It was quite an entrance and she was dressed to kill: long robe, a short tactical top, armguards, armor pads on her shoulders, and a belt that holds the mid-section of her robe.

She took the seat across Kylo’s end and sat in a not-so-formal way, she sat like she was in a cantina booth couch. Every man in the conference room is taken aback by the posture, the attitude, and the confident aura exuded by this one woman that none of them spoke in reaction to her question addressed to Hux. This is a woman who must not be taken lightly, who has known her trade from a young age, and has dealt with enough crooks to harden her spirit rather than break or discourage it.

“I beg your pardon?!” Hux snapped wildly.

“I said, are you sure about your diagnosis, General?” calmly, Jamis spoke, repeating her question.

The leaders then turn their heads to Hux, awaiting a response, when the silence became any less brief, Jamis added, “From my knowledge and observation, the Rebels are not stagnant workers—while they do rely on the responses of their allies, they do not rely on that alone, they generate other options for survival.”

“And where, pray tell, do you get this kind of information?” Hux snarled.

Jamis slightly shrugged, her tone of voice rings with a lingering sarcasm, “I’ve bumped into more Rebels than you ever could personally.”

This annoyed Hux. His nostrils flared and the fists behind his back clenched. He marched up to her as he spat words at her.

“You arrogant, insolent fool! You think you’re so smart because you grew up in the streets, that you’ve dealt with all kinds of scum every day of your life to know their ways, and that you call yourself a hunter who does the dirty work for her master when you are, in fact, their hunting hound—is that it, woman? You have no command in this ship!”

Jamis sensed Hux’s approach as threatening, so with every sentence as he inched closer to her, her hand was searching for her lightsaber clipped onto her belt, when her fingertips felt the cold metal they rested there just by the grip of the hilt. At his last sentence, Hux raised his voice, the tone of anger and great vexation was evident but he began to choke in the middle of his momentum. Jamis, oddly calm with a straight face, had propped her arm up with her elbow, motioned her fingers to clench but leaving the palm open as if holding something, and her eyes had a glint of ferociousness in them. She was Force-choking Hux.

“Your perception in bounty hunters is disturbing, General. I reckon you change that,”

Hux gurgled and gasped for air, clawing at his neck trying to free himself from Jamis’s invisible grasp. The sight of the general choking at the mercy of this Force-sensitive bounty hunter doubled the commanders’ collective discomfort. Another Kylo, they thought.

Jamis prompted herself to stop choking the poor man. She loosened up and slowly leaned back to her seat, returning to her laidback position. She gestured everyone in the conference to continue. She attentively listened and behaved like a good girl.

“A-As I was saying, Lord Ren,” the communications commander cleared his throat, “The Rebels are sending distress signals but they are not being answered to.”

“Like I said, they’re hopeless,” Hux pushed his assumption.

“Only small federations are replying to them, but they’re of no significant help—they cannot supply them with enough machinery even if they wanted to.” The communications commander added.

“What are the odds that we may encounter them in space and not on land?” Kylo asked in the general direction, hoping for a reply from any of them.

“Likely, m’lord, but aren’t they still on the lookout for Skywalker?” a fleet commander answered.

The whole time Jamis had been staring at the floor while she listened, but at the mention of Skywalker name, her ears pricked and her eyes shot up, looking first at the commander and then to Kylo.

_Skywalker? What do they know?_

“They most certainly are, given that the droid and _that girl_ are in possession of the map, they’re perhaps charting their transports to wherever he is.” Kylo snarled.

“I guess the smaller federations are not much of a problem to you. They usually just send out emissaries to deal with the Rebels, in this case, General Leia Organa. Don’t waste your time in a goose chase,” Jamis finally broke her silence and everyone turns their attention to her. “Now, about those odds.”

“Go on,” Kylo squinted his eyes, intrigued.

“Facing them in space is nothing more than a little dogfight—but it may thin out their numbers if that’s what you’re aiming for. But the real question is: what are the odds that they will be sending a quarter of the fleet to retrieve Skywalker? Surely, they will send only one person or a small team of three to five persons in a single transport—they wouldn’t want that much attention from you now, do they?”

“No, but you are right about thinning their numbers, nothing but a meager task that our fleet can handle.”

“What of Skywalker, the Jedi Master? Are you partaking in the manhunt as well?”

Kylo pressed his lips together, she got him there, she sensed it from the moment he mentioned Skywalker, a droid and _that_ girl who possesses the map—he has some unfinished business with those three, she presumed. Kylo did not reply to that question.

“If you don’t want to draw so much attention to yourself, then don’t go all out, that way they won’t see you coming—they’ll put up a fight but they are vulnerable nonetheless. Subtlety is key.”

“Why are you so worried about our manpower and approach? We are clearly capable of fending off the Rebels,” Hux butts in.

“Quiet, ginger,” Jamis spat, then she pointed her finger at Kylo, “What value is of Skywalker?”

Kylo felt his heart skip a beat and firmly, he said, “Everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been busy looking for jobs because I wanna buy things. It’s hard but I know I’ll get there somehow.


	17. Forging the Contract

The meeting was adjourned and all the commanders—including Hux—were dismissed. Jamis and Kylo remained in the conference room. There were things that he would like to discuss with her regarding the manhunt for Skywalker.

“So,” Jamis began, “Who’s the girl?”

“No one,”

Jamis nodded, immediately dismissing the thought and quitted the assumptions.

“Is there something important you have to tell me that we’re the only ones left in the room?”

“I’m here to make a deal with you,”

She squinted her eyes and tilted her head slightly to the side, “Go on,”

“Find Skywalker, tell me where he is hiding, and—if you can—bring him to me _alive_.”

Her eyes widened, “You’re making me go after a _Jedi_? Isn’t that more of _your_ caliber? You’re sending me to capture _the_ Jedi Master Luke Skywalker?!”

Everything felt so sudden, a rush of adrenaline in the guise of anxiety swept Jamis right off and stole her breath. She was already beginning to imagine things that are bound to happen or possibly scenarios that she is making up in her mind out of intense nervousness—you would be surprised that for such a bounty hunter, she still gets into this kind of episodes but she is only human. She took a huge breath, flushed all the child-like scenarios that her mind invented out of her brain, and then found her professional composure again.

“Can you or can you not do it?” Kylo snapped back.

Jamis carefully thinks this through: she considered every possibly twist and turn hiding in the deal’s context, the unpredictable events that may come unexpectedly in her journey, and the overall outcome of the contract. She got the idea that the reason behind Kylo’s extensive training plotted out for her was a step in instructing her to hunt down Luke Skywalker.

There is no answer in between, she has to commit to only one answer and she has to deliver it.

“I can—with a contract in this scale, it’s going to cost you.”

“I am aware and I don’t care.”

“Okay then.” Jamis shrugs her shoulders and ended the exchange with an awkward note. Shortly after, she asked, “When do I start?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Jamis simply nodded, she withdrew the question was already dangling at the tip of her tongue, instead she turned around and headed for the door.

“You just can’t stop forging bargains with me, can you, Kylo?”

“Because I see you as someone invaluable.”

She walked away with the last thing he said clinging in her mind—another list of the nice things he has said to her and it was not even a very long list. She headed to the hangar where her ship was docked and started equipping the necessary arsenal. Realizing that she does not have to deal much with the rebels, she only brought her rifle and hand pistol, as for dealing with the Master Jedi, she knows that only one weapon is suitable for her confrontation with him—her hand wandered to her waist, her fingertips searched for the metal hilt clipped on her belt, and she sighed with resolve.

_Am I even really ready?_

Jamis finished her preparations in the ship, she opted to return to her room to fetch the things she has left there. Almost immediately as she entered her room, TC-846 jumped and turned around stiffly to greet its temporary owner, Jamis dismisses its formality in a friendly manner then proceeded to collect her things.

“Err, Miss Jamis?”

“Yes, TC?”

“Uh, if I may ask, do you have any trips today?”

“Yes. Kylo’s sent me to find someone,”

“Oh, o-of course,” it made a small yet polite bow, “Apologies for prying.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” chuckled Jamis amiably, “Well, I’ll see you soon.”

“Safe trips, Miss Jamis. I look forward to your return.”

Jamis smiled at the droid who was almost sentient despite its programming—you can expect a protocol droid to be so formal, polite, and almost friendly, but it is rare to have one who genuinely thinks of its master’s well-being and bids farewell.

“Since I won’t be here for quite a while, you can shut down and rest, TC. You’ve been such a great help, so you have my thanks.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Miss.”

Obediently, TC-846 sat down on the bench at nook where it usually sits before shutting down or subject itself to hibernation mode. Not less than a few seconds, the light in its eyes went dim; Jamis watched her droid shut itself down, sitting stiffly as a stone, and then left her room.

She marched to the hangar, back to her ship, and she found Kylo standing by the unopened entrance ramp. She walked up to him, while his back was turned to her, and she felt her stomach sink.

“How long have you been waiting?”

“Not long,”

“Here to see me off, I reckon?”

Kylo slowly turned around and met her eyes, she could not read the emotions in his eyes for they were muddled—but if she were to name just one, they showed a glint of puzzlement in a sea of other expressions.

“Yes,”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will.”

Jamis smirked, walked past him but he followed her, she opened the ramp and the young Sith abruptly clutched her arm but his grip was gentle and harmless.

“What is it, Kylo?”

“I…”

Jamis stepped down the ramp, closer to him, closing the distance in between and loosening his grip at the same time. She gently raised her eyebrows, nudging him to continue his sentence.

“I hope you make it back safely.”

“Oh… I will. Thanks.”

Kylo releases his grip, her wrist smoothly sliding away from his fingers, she proceeded to enter the ship and looked back one more time; they saw each other off as the entry ramp hissed and slowly hoisted until it closes off the open entryway. Jamis went to the cockpit and seated herself behind the control panel, a smile appeared in her face.

“Hey, girl, missed me?”

The engines gave out a brief roar followed by a purr once the fires have settled down, the sound of it was almost nostalgic to Jamis that a laugh escaped her lungs. She gently pulled the lever that allowed the ship to hover before take-off. As the ship gained its momentum, Jamis floored the lever and zoomed out of the hangar as Kylo watches on, from the command center, Hux also watched the ship fly away—in his relief, there was one less brat to worry about for the time being but he saw the childish display of coyness that Kylo and Jamis exhibited on her ship’s entrance ramp.

“Hmph, never in the right mind as always that Ren,” he scoffed before marching away and continued his command in the bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while! I've been busy since I'm still in the job-hunting phase, I have training next week so I'm not technically employed yet since that's part of the application process and this is one of the rare times that I get to unwind and finish the chapter. Thanks for being so patient!


	18. Little Reunion

Jamis, after several weeks, finally got to pilot her ship again in the wide open vacuum of outer space. It was like a breath of fresh air for her, and her laughter couldn’t help but escape her lungs as she leaned back to her seat’s backrest. Although her bliss was short-lived when the thought of a homing beacon possibly—and secretly—installed somewhere on her ship caused the sudden heightening of her senses.

Cunningly, she charted a route that had multiple lay-overs, in the hopes that Kylo or Hux’s tracking systems

In the middle of her route, she put the ship on auto-pilot, sent a transmission code to Kylo’s Star Destroyer communications and waited for the signal to ping. Patiently, she waited while staring off into space while munching on a small pouch of pallies—a snack from Tatooine—until the control panel rang. She flicked the switch that transferred the message to a compact hologram disc. Jamis made herself comfortable on the lounge couch as she gingerly places the disc on top of the center table—which also happens to be a Dejarik table.

A hologram image of Kylo fizzles out of the disc’s screen until it was crisp and clear.

“Hey, Ren,” Jamis casually greets into the conversation.

“Jamis? Why bother transmitting a message at this time?” asked Kylo quizzically.

“I have something to ask,” there was a brief pause between them so Jamis continued, “What are the odds that you’ve probably installed a homing beacon hiding in plain sight in my _own_ ship?”

His eyebrows furrowed visibly even through a hologram transmission, “Why would you presume that I have—or have not?”

Jamis sat down, propped her elbows on her knees, leaning forward and closer to Kylo’s hologram reflection and comes to answer, “Because you don’t trust me as a hunter, given that you’ve never seen me work as one.”

Kylo mentally admits that Jamis has a strong point—not to spite herself, but simply stating the obvious. He never knew of a lightsaber-wielding bounty hunter until she crashed in. But in truth, he never installed a home beacon or any of the sort on Jamis’s ship behind her back, but it is not her fault if she feels anxious about being watched over by a bigger party—that is the First Order with Kylo Ren and General Hux.

“You’re right: this is my first time knowing of you actually hunting, but rest assured you’re not under surveillance.”

“Let me just get this out of the way, pretty boy: the moment I find out you’re lying—consider this bargain void. I don’t care if you send another hunter to chase after me, I will always evade whomever they are, I don’t even care if you’ll pay me. I won’t do as you tell me.”

With much thought, Kylo took a deep inhale and released a word that he can never take back from a bounty hunter, “Agreed.”

Kylo wondered why he always finds himself within the bear-trap grasp of this bounty hunter, and why he could not slip through despite the many openings; unable to simply put it into words, the forged connection he has with the girl is the strongest factor. He cannot easily let her go. To some extent, Armitage—regardless of his constant spiting of the two—was right from the start: Kylo has gotten soft again over some girl. A joke targeted to a lost, innocent and shy boy hiding within a young man’s demeanor.

Kylo’s hologram crackled again until it melted into the small screen of the disc. Jamis remained in her seat for a few minutes, carefully rethinking what transpired in their conversation and new agreement barely hours into the contract. Taking in slow, deep breaths to calm herself, she returned to the cockpit—with the thought of a homing beacon stuck to her ship being the least of her problems—and reset the drive back to manual.

Jamis wanted to try her luck in seeing how far the First Order’s scanners can go, so she reviewed her route that bounced from system to system, parsecs away from each other, but she did not plan out such a path all for naught—she even included desolate planets that are barely inhabited by humans or other species. The pattern of her trip was a combination of planets with urban locations and planets that solely have dense vegetation. This route was strategically planned by her with the task of gathering more supplies as she noticed that she was running quite short of it since her last trip and replenishing her artillery. Her first stop was Coruscant, with the objective of collecting supplies across the city, she did not last long there as her instinct kept bothering her.

“No, too crowded. Easily spotted.” Jamis mumbles to herself an analysis of the planet’s environment inability to help Skywalker blend in and remain in hiding.

When she was finished with her supplies shopping, she returned to her ship and made way for Baraan-Fa, a planet known for The Bazaar, a point of interest for buyers and merchants alike, ruffians are not out of the demographic. Ruling it out from the list of the possible planets her target may be hiding—the same conclusion with the former: too crowded. Jamis typed the coordinates of the planet and pulled the clutch lever. Once she had gained enough momentum for the ship to prepare itself for a jump, she flicked all the switches and buttons to charge the jump to hyperspace; the stars that dotted the black vacuum of space all at once turned into thin streaks of light, then, almost instantaneously, the Stellar Wind is traversing through a tube of blue gaseous matter—hyperspace. As the ship zooms through the hypnotic tunnel of gas, she checks the radar and then stands up from her seat; she sits down in front of the communications panel of the ship to send a transmission while she nears the planet. The transmission reflected successful in the screen, she leaned back to her seat and smirked while rubbing her chin.

Jamis managed to dock her ship in a landing bay, her reputation was quite welcome in the place though not always smiled upon. Feeling just chipper, she found herself in a bar. Everything was tinted with the hues of yellow, brown, and green—an unsightly color palette—fortunately, it did not smell as unpleasant as the place appears to be. She sees herself to the bartender and orders a drink, the burly bartender—a greasy-looking Neimoidan—grunts as a response to Jamis’s order and waits without drawing much attention.

Suddenly, a male Chiss—accompanied by two friends of different species, a Zabrak and a Togruta—approaches her by shoving himself next to her, invading the remaining millimeter of her personal space—which greatly irritated her at an instant but she bit her tongue getting into a fight.

“It’s my first time seeing you around here,” the Chiss went on, smiling in a perverse manner despite Jamis’s evident disinterest radiating and looming around her.

“I’ve been around a lot of places,” she responds without looking.

“Can I get you a drink then?” Chiss continued.

In the nick of time, the Neimoidian bartender lets out a raspy “Hey” at Jamis, sliding her glass towards her and immediately takes a sip as her answer. Embarrassed, the Chiss thought of another way to her pick her up.

“You lost, kitten? I can help you find your friends, if they’re around here,”

Jamis stayed quiet, savoring her liquor while completely ignoring the semi-drunk Chiss until he does the unspeakable: he unwelcomingly wraps his arm around her shoulder. Jamis’s eyes widened, her fingers’ grip on the glass stiffened, and her neck slowly craned to find a set of blue fingers clutching her shoulder. Her free hand reached for the hand that is holding her, dropped the glass from the other and grappled the Chiss down to the floor, pinning him with the contradicting pressure of his arm at its socket, with clenched teeth, she warned him.

“Don’t. Touch me.” She hissed.

The patrons of the bar were alarmed with the sounds of glass breaking and the hard thud of a body on the floor, the Chiss’s friends too became alert, with their friend suddenly pinned to the ground in a matter of seconds. Chiss, still playing it cool, managed to raise his arm to his friends, signaling them that everything will be fine. A great majority of the Chiss population are known for their overconfidence, if not their cunning.

“Whoa now, don’t wanna get messy right here, do we?”

“Which is why I pinned you down, unless you _do_ wanna get messy with your brains on the floor.”

The bartender, possibly used to the sight of a pre-skirmish scene, exerted the effort of only warning the two to keep it down or take their problem somewhere else.

“Hey, hey, hey now,” a familiar voice rang around the crowd, Jamis recognizes it but she did not let her guard down in pinning the Chiss, appearing from the crowd was a purple Twi’lek female and a young, male Zabrak.

The Twi’lek, smiling brightly despite the current scene, nonchalantly commented, “That’s a new move ya got there.”

“Fira? Ourgus?” said Jamis in a greatly surprised tone.

“Well, got yourself in quite a jam, huh?” Fira commented, not minding the state Jamis is in.

“Gimme some slack, it’s been a while since I thought of going out,” Jamis coolly replied.

The young Zabrak, Ourgus, looked down at Jamis’s feet and saw her victim, he rolled he eyes and chuckled, “Giazu, I reckon it’s your first time meeting her, yeah?”

“Yeah, no shit, Ourgus!”

“Giazu, this is Jamis, you probably know her by name as the—“

“The lightsaber-wielder?!”

“Oh, you’ve done some research. Good work!” Ourgus sarcastically replies.

“Thought it was a lost kitten, figured I’d help out the poor thing.”

“Well, this _kitten_ don’t need much help from you or your friends,” Fira chuckled.

Fira nodded at Jamis, wordlessly telling her to let the poor Chiss go, Jamis released him reluctantly, the blue humanoid sprung back to his feet, retreating to his friends and walking to a reasonably safe distance. When the Chiss and his company was out of sight, Jamis leaped towards Fira and Ourgus for a hug, laughing and relishing a reunion.

“Aye, Jamis, ya still bite, dontcha?” Fira sighed and then wrapping her arm around her, before proceeding to a seat, she tossed a small pouch of credits to the bartender, “Hey, on me!”

They lounged in a booth at the far corner of the bar where they were all snuggled up close to each other to talk. Fira and Ourgus were obviously excited for the surprise show-up of their friend.

“You cheeky thing, you didn’t tell us that you were stopping by here!” Fira exclaimed happily before chugging down her drink.

“I actually sent a transmission to your ship, figuring that one of your droids ought to pick it up for you. I didn’t realize you’d be hanging around in here.” Jamis explained.

“Ahh, you didn’t think I’d idle about in my ship if there were tons to do here in Cato Neimoida!”

Fira was beginning to smell strongly of booze, so Ourgus, being the only sober one aside from Jamis, decided to take the conversation elsewhere.

“So, Jamis, why’d you think of coming back here? Are you really back for commission?”

“I… I actually have a contract.”

“Really? From whom?”

Jamis paused and thought of the safest answer she can come up with, “Can’t say… but it’s more of a retrieval mission.”

“A bit docile than what you usually do, huh?” said Ourgus before taking a light sip of his own drink. “Who you findin’?”

Jamis looked at the young Zabrak straight in the eye, he immediately sensed that this mission is truly far different from Jamis’s usual line of work.

“I’m out to find the old Master.”

Fira’s tipsy state suddenly turned down to a sober mood, Ourgus remained quiet, and Jamis nervously took a sip of her drink.

“I need to find him.”


	19. The Guiding Way

Jamis, after several weeks, finally got to pilot her ship again in the wide open vacuum of outer space. It was like a breath of fresh air for her, and her laughter couldn’t help but escape her lungs as she leaned back to her seat’s backrest. Although her bliss was short-lived when the thought of a homing beacon possibly—and secretly—installed somewhere on her ship caused the sudden heightening of her senses.

Cunningly, she charted a route that had multiple lay-overs, in the hopes that Kylo or Hux’s tracking systems

In the middle of her route, she put the ship on auto-pilot, sent a transmission code to Kylo’s Star Destroyer communications and waited for the signal to ping. Patiently, she waited while staring off into space while munching on a small pouch of pallies—a snack from Tatooine—until the control panel rang. She flicked the switch that transferred the message to a compact hologram disc. Jamis made herself comfortable on the lounge couch as she gingerly places the disc on top of the center table—which also happens to be a Dejarik table.

A hologram image of Kylo fizzles out of the disc’s screen until it was crisp and clear.

“Hey, Ren,” Jamis casually greets into the conversation.

“Jamis? Why bother transmitting a message at this time?” asked Kylo quizzically.

“I have something to ask,” there was a brief pause between them so Jamis continued, “What are the odds that you’ve probably installed a homing beacon hiding in plain sight in my _own_ ship?”

His eyebrows furrowed visibly even through a hologram transmission, “Why would you presume that I have—or have not?”

Jamis sat down, propped her elbows on her knees, leaning forward and closer to Kylo’s hologram reflection and comes to answer, “Because you don’t trust me as a hunter, given that you’ve never seen me work as one.”

Kylo mentally admits that Jamis has a strong point—not to spite herself, but simply stating the obvious. He never knew of a lightsaber-wielding bounty hunter until she crashed in. But in truth, he never installed a home beacon or any of the sort on Jamis’s ship behind her back, but it is not her fault if she feels anxious about being watched over by a bigger party—that is the First Order with Kylo Ren and General Hux.

“You’re right: this is my first time knowing of you actually hunting, but rest assured you’re not under surveillance.”

“Let me just get this out of the way, pretty boy: the moment I find out you’re lying—consider this bargain void. I don’t care if you send another hunter to chase after me, I will always evade whomever they are, I don’t even care if you’ll pay me. I won’t do as you tell me.”

With much thought, Kylo took a deep inhale and released a word that he can never take back from a bounty hunter, “Agreed.”

Kylo wondered why he always finds himself within the bear-trap grasp of this bounty hunter, and why he could not slip through despite the many openings; unable to simply put it into words, the forged connection he has with the girl is the strongest factor. He cannot easily let her go. To some extent, Armitage—regardless of his constant spiting of the two—was right from the start: Kylo has gotten soft again over some girl. A joke targeted to a lost, innocent and shy boy hiding within a young man’s demeanor.

Kylo’s hologram crackled again until it melted into the small screen of the disc. Jamis remained in her seat for a few minutes, carefully rethinking what transpired in their conversation and new agreement barely hours into the contract. Taking in slow, deep breaths to calm herself, she returned to the cockpit—with the thought of a homing beacon stuck to her ship being the least of her problems—and reset the drive back to manual.

Jamis wanted to try her luck in seeing how far the First Order’s scanners can go, so she reviewed her route that bounced from system to system, parsecs away from each other, but she did not plan out such a path all for naught—she even included desolate planets that are barely inhabited by humans or other species. The pattern of her trip was a combination of planets with urban locations and planets that solely have dense vegetation. This route was strategically planned by her with the task of gathering more supplies as she noticed that she was running quite short of it since her last trip and replenishing her artillery. Her first stop was Coruscant, with the objective of collecting supplies across the city, she did not last long there as her instinct kept bothering her.

“No, too crowded. Easily spotted.” Jamis mumbles to herself an analysis of the planet’s environment inability to help Skywalker blend in and remain in hiding.

When she was finished with her supplies shopping, she returned to her ship and made way for Baraan-Fa, a planet known for The Bazaar, a point of interest for buyers and merchants alike, ruffians are not out of the demographic. Ruling it out from the list of the possible planets her target may be hiding—the same conclusion with the former: too crowded. Jamis typed the coordinates of the planet and pulled the clutch lever. Once she had gained enough momentum for the ship to prepare itself for a jump, she flicked all the switches and buttons to charge the jump to hyperspace; the stars that dotted the black vacuum of space all at once turned into thin streaks of light, then, almost instantaneously, the Stellar Wind is traversing through a tube of blue gaseous matter—hyperspace. As the ship zooms through the hypnotic tunnel of gas, she checks the radar and then stands up from her seat; she sits down in front of the communications panel of the ship to send a transmission while she nears the planet. The transmission reflected successful in the screen, she leaned back to her seat and smirked while rubbing her chin.

Jamis managed to dock her ship in a landing bay, her reputation was quite welcome in the place though not always smiled upon. Feeling just chipper, she found herself in a bar. Everything was tinted with the hues of yellow, brown, and green—an unsightly color palette—fortunately, it did not smell as unpleasant as the place appears to be. She sees herself to the bartender and orders a drink, the burly bartender—a greasy-looking Neimoidan—grunts as a response to Jamis’s order and waits without drawing much attention.

Suddenly, a male Chiss—accompanied by two friends of different species, a Zabrak and a Togruta—approaches her by shoving himself next to her, invading the remaining millimeter of her personal space—which greatly irritated her at an instant but she bit her tongue getting into a fight.

“It’s my first time seeing you around here,” the Chiss went on, smiling in a perverse manner despite Jamis’s evident disinterest radiating and looming around her.

“I’ve been around a lot of places,” she responds without looking.

“Can I get you a drink then?” Chiss continued.

In the nick of time, the Neimoidian bartender lets out a raspy “Hey” at Jamis, sliding her glass towards her and immediately takes a sip as her answer. Embarrassed, the Chiss thought of another way to her pick her up.

“You lost, kitten? I can help you find your friends, if they’re around here,”

Jamis stayed quiet, savoring her liquor while completely ignoring the semi-drunk Chiss until he does the unspeakable: he unwelcomingly wraps his arm around her shoulder. Jamis’s eyes widened, her fingers’ grip on the glass stiffened, and her neck slowly craned to find a set of blue fingers clutching her shoulder. Her free hand reached for the hand that is holding her, dropped the glass from the other and grappled the Chiss down to the floor, pinning him with the contradicting pressure of his arm at its socket, with clenched teeth, she warned him.

“Don’t. Touch me.” She hissed.

The patrons of the bar were alarmed with the sounds of glass breaking and the hard thud of a body on the floor, the Chiss’s friends too became alert, with their friend suddenly pinned to the ground in a matter of seconds. Chiss, still playing it cool, managed to raise his arm to his friends, signaling them that everything will be fine. A great majority of the Chiss population are known for their overconfidence, if not their cunning.

“Whoa now, don’t wanna get messy right here, do we?”

“Which is why I pinned you down, unless you _do_ wanna get messy with your brains on the floor.”

The bartender, possibly used to the sight of a pre-skirmish scene, exerted the effort of only warning the two to keep it down or take their problem somewhere else.

“Hey, hey, hey now,” a familiar voice rang around the crowd, Jamis recognizes it but she did not let her guard down in pinning the Chiss, appearing from the crowd was a purple Twi’lek female and a young, male Zabrak.

The Twi’lek, smiling brightly despite the current scene, nonchalantly commented, “That’s a new move ya got there.”

“Fira? Ourgus?” said Jamis in a greatly surprised tone.

“Well, got yourself in quite a jam, huh?” Fira commented, not minding the state Jamis is in.

“Gimme some slack, it’s been a while since I thought of going out,” Jamis coolly replied.

The young Zabrak, Ourgus, looked down at Jamis’s feet and saw her victim, he rolled he eyes and chuckled, “Giazu, I reckon it’s your first time meeting her, yeah?”

“Yeah, no shit, Ourgus!”

“Giazu, this is Jamis, you probably know her by name as the—“

“The lightsaber-wielder?!”

“Oh, you’ve done some research. Good work!” Ourgus sarcastically replies.

“Thought it was a lost kitten, figured I’d help out the poor thing.”

“Well, this _kitten_ don’t need much help from you or your friends,” Fira chuckled.

Fira nodded at Jamis, wordlessly telling her to let the poor Chiss go, Jamis released him reluctantly, the blue humanoid sprung back to his feet, retreating to his friends and walking to a reasonably safe distance. When the Chiss and his company was out of sight, Jamis leaped towards Fira and Ourgus for a hug, laughing and relishing a reunion.

“Aye, Jamis, ya still bite, dontcha?” Fira sighed and then wrapping her arm around her, before proceeding to a seat, she tossed a small pouch of credits to the bartender, “Hey, on me!”

They lounged in a booth at the far corner of the bar where they were all snuggled up close to each other to talk. Fira and Ourgus were obviously excited for the surprise show-up of their friend.

“You cheeky thing, you didn’t tell us that you were stopping by here!” Fira exclaimed happily before chugging down her drink.

“I actually sent a transmission to your ship, figuring that one of your droids ought to pick it up for you. I didn’t realize you’d be hanging around in here.” Jamis explained.

“Ahh, you didn’t think I’d idle about in my ship if there were tons to do here in Cato Neimoida!”

Fira was beginning to smell strongly of booze, so Ourgus, being the only sober one aside from Jamis, decided to take the conversation elsewhere.

“So, Jamis, why’d you think of coming back here? Are you really back for commission?”

“I… I actually have a contract.”

“Really? From whom?”

Jamis paused and thought of the safest answer she can come up with, “Can’t say… but it’s more of a retrieval mission.”

“A bit docile than what you usually do, huh?” said Ourgus before taking a light sip of his own drink. “Who you findin’?”

Jamis looked at the young Zabrak straight in the eye, he immediately sensed that this mission is truly far different from Jamis’s usual line of work.

“I’m out to find the old Master.”

Fira’s tipsy state suddenly turned down to a sober mood, Ourgus remained quiet, and Jamis nervously took a sip of her drink.

“I need to find him.”

The other bounty hunters sipped their drink in the midst of the awkward silence, unsure whether to take Jamis’s objective seriously or lightly. They are the privileged few—perhaps, the _only_ few—who knew about Jamis’s past for she does not disclose it recklessly to anybody.

“I have intel, but it don’t depend on it wholly,” Fira initiated.

The low, dull light in Jamis’s eyes seem to have sparkled but she tried her best not to let it go overboard. She shifted in her seat and listened attentively to Fira’s intel, with every morsel, Jamis absorbed it and took a long mental list of notes on what she needed to remember.

“Jamis,” Fira said in a firm tone, “You know what to do?”

Jamis confirmed Fira with a nod. For old time’s sake, they enjoyed another round of drinks; and then they were already asking Jamis when she will come back—that is something she is unsure of. Vaguely, yet honestly, she tells them soon and then she returns to the docking bay where she had anchored the ship. She immediately ignited the engine of the ship while recounting her inventory from her short-lived trip and then ran to the cockpit to exit the bay and later the planet itself. Keeping in mind what her friends have told her, she focused on the objective at hand and charted her course, but before her fingers would even touch the panel, a thought stopped her dead on her tracks.

 _“No, I don’t need any map…”_ she thought, reluctantly at first, but suddenly a splash of confidence came to her, “I know where to go!”

She pulled the switches, expertly turned the necessary knobs to their desired points and put her ship to full throttle, then out she was in the vast blackness of space with a newfound confidence and a lingering anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God... what a huge-ass backlog (but I guess that's bit a normal now for me, but I'm still guilty)!!!! I haven't been able to write a complete chapter ever since I got employed since my job is quite busy, despite being a work-from-home kind of job, and I wasn't able to really sit down to write or at least finish something because goddamn my job as an online tutor sure is draining. I guess I haven't programmed my body to be stronger and not give a fuck about my company's management.


End file.
